


Don't Go Out Tonight

by phantisma



Series: Don't [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossdressing, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-03-16
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John disappeared and Dean is left to take care of Sam.  When Dean gets himself into big trouble with a bad guy, it's up to Sam to bail him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Go Out Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This is Hooker!fic. Dean is hooking to make money for him and Sam to live on. This is pimp!fic, in that Dean has to give Sam to the guy who he owes money. It is underage (Sam is 17). But it is consensual. There is also cross-dressing.

“Dean?”

“I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t look fine.”

Dean held a hand over his eye. “Just had a little accident.”

“You have accidents a lot lately.” Sam crossed to where Dean was shutting the door of the cheap apartment. “I’m seventeen. Not stupid.”

“Mind your own business, Sam. I’ll handle it.” Dean crossed to the small fridge and got some ice.

Sam crossed to the kitchen space and put his hands on his hips. “This to do with Mosely?”

Dean looked at him sharply. “What do you know about Mosely?”

“I know he stopped me on my way home from school today, told me you owed him a lot of money and that if I didn’t want to be scraping you off the pavement I should help you pay it back.”

Dean kicked the chair. “I told him to keep you out of it. Fuck.”

“Why do you owe him? What do you owe him?”

Dean tried to push past him. “I’ll handle it.”

“Right, because you’re not already beat to shit and you can just pull money out of your ass. Oh, wait…you can pull money out of your ass, after your trick stuffs it up there.”

Dean didn’t mean to do it, but he swung at him, missed and landed on the bed. Dean yelled as his bruised ribs hit the mattress. Mosely’s guys had worked him over pretty good.

Sam sighed and came to the bed, yanking on Dean’s shirt. “Let me see.”

“I said I was fine.”

“Yeah, black eyes and bruised ribs are my definition of fine too.” Sam pulled the shirt up over his head and squatted, pushing Dean’s left arm up over his shoulder, his fingers skimming over the skin. “At least one of these is broken. We should get you to the hospital.”

“Can’t afford it. Mosely took everything I had.” Dean looked away, ashamed.

“How much?”

Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get it.”

“Dean.”

He put his arm down and stood up. “I’ll get it.”

Sam sighed and grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away. “He said you had until tomorrow. Then he’ll find other ways to get it out of you.”

“I can’t get it by tomorrow. Not all of it.”

“I have some saved.” Sam headed for the dresser.

“I’m not taking your money.”

“Yes, you are.” Sam rummaged around in the drawer and came up with a sock. He pulled a wad of bills out and tossed it to Dean. “It’s not much.”

Dean rifled through the bills, calculating in his head. “There’s gotta be $300 here.”

Sam shrugged. “Tips from the job you made me quit.”

“Dad would kill me if he knew you were working a place like that.”

“I was just waiting tables.”

Dean shook his head and tossed the wad back. “Isn’t enough anyway. Keep it.”

“Damn it Dean. I’m not a baby.”

“We’ll just leave. We can be gone before midnight.” Dean paced away. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“What about Dad?”

Dean froze. He’d been gone a long time. They hadn’t heard a thing from him. “He’ll call.”

Going on a year they’d been squatting where he’d left them. Dean hustled pool at first, burned the credit cards they had. Sitting in one place wasn’t too conducive to credit card fraud though and once they’d maxed the cards and he was too well known to hustle well, he’d been forced to other ways of making money.

He’d stripped. Worked a sleazy club. It wasn’t enough. His desperation must have shown. The club’s owner pulled him aside and offered him extra money if he’d give a private show for some big spenders. The catch was this private show meant touching.

It wasn’t a long fall from there to turning tricks. He only did it when they were desperate. At first. He hid it from Sam. Or he thought he did. Of course, he should have known better. Sam confronted him over it a few months before. He hadn’t reacted well, but it seemed like he adjusted.

“He’ll call and we’ll hook up with him wherever.” Dean head for the bathroom, but Sam stopped him.

“We can’t run. Mosely will keep looking. Three hundred dollars isn’t going to get us far. Dad has the car.”

“What do you suggest then Sam?”

This time it was Sam who turned away, his face flushing. “He…suggested a solution.”

“No.” Anything a man like Mosely Aims suggested was no solution Dean was willing to consider. “You don’t even have to tell me what it is, the answer is no. “

“Why don’t you let me help you?”

“I don’t need my baby brother bailing me out. Okay?”

“Maybe you do.” Sam turned back to face him. “I know it’s more than a thousand Dean. That’s a lot of money. He says I can fix it. He said he would let me fix it.”

Dean closed his eyes. “God, Sam. No. Just. You have no idea what he’s asking.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I do. He wants to fuck me.”

Dean covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear Sam talk that way. “I can do it Dean. You do it.”

Dean crossed the room, grabbed Sam by the shoulders and shook him. “Stop. Just stop.”

“He’ll just keep coming Dean. He’ll keep coming until your dead, and then what will I do? How will I tell Dad?”

Dean dropped his hands. “How will I ever face Dad knowing you…that I let you…?”

“He doesn’t ever have to know.” Sam took his hand and drew him back to the table. “Sit down. Let’s get you taped up.”

 

 

“Your brother know you’re here?”

Sam nodded tightly. “He won’t tell me how much he owes you.”

“Does it matter?”

Sam crossed his arms. He wouldn’t cross into the office, not alone. He stood in the doorway. “If I’m negotiating for the payoff, I think I should know.”

Mosely nodded. He stood. He was a big guy, more than 6’5”, broad at the shoulders, with a bald head and a goatee. He was almost handsome, if he weren’t such a dangerous guy. His black skin gleamed in the neon light from the beer signs on his wall.

“His original debt was two thousand. That was three months ago. He paid back five hundred. Interest since his last payment brings it back to eighteen hundred.”

“That’s a lot of interest.” Sam said.

Mosely leaned against his desk. “He knew the terms.” He crossed his mammoth arms. “I’ll tell you what though Sam. I’ll offer you a deal. I’ll knock off the interest, and take another two hundred off the total, if you pay off the debt yourself.” He grinned slow and easy. “To my satisfaction.”

Sam didn’t really like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

“Are we getting specific?”

“Might as well, right?” Sam straightened up. “I mean, obviously you want something.”

His grin got bigger as his eyes swept over Sam. “Yeah. I want something.” He stood up and came a few steps closer. “Let’s be clear. A sum of money like this is not going to be resolved with a single act. I’m thinking three is a good number. Three. In seven days.”

Sam nodded tightly. Mosely came closer. “First time is tomorrow night. In the morning I’ll drop off your…costume for the evening. You’ll arrive dressed and ready. Your brother brings you. He stays silent. He’ll witness everything.”

Sam swallowed hard. Mosely was nearly in his face now. “Any prep you want, you do yourself. I’ll expect you ready.”

He licked his lips, not entirely sure what that meant. “Three times. And when it’s over, Dean’s free.”

“Completely.”

Sam exhaled slowly. “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 

 

There was a bag in front of the apartment the next morning. Dean brought it in and put it on the table. They both looked at it, looked away from it. They didn’t talk about it.

When Dean went in to take a shower, Sam pulled the bag over to the bed and opened it. There was a note with an address and a time and reminders about the conditions. There were clothes in the bag.

For the first time Sam wasn’t sure he could go through with it. He pulled the skirt out first. It was pink and white, pleated…like something the cheerleaders in his school wore. Under that was a pink half shirt that would be tight over his chest.

At the bottom of the bag was a small make up bag filled with blush and mascara and lipstick and frilly little pony tail things.

Sam shoved it all back in the bag and put the bag on the dresser as Dean emerged from the bathroom. “So…I thought we could go catch a movie or something. My treat.”

Dean nodded, not really saying anything.

Sam got up and met him half way to the dresser. “It’s going to be okay.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t…let’s not talk about it.”

“Yeah, okay. Get dressed.”

 

 

If Sam was nervous, or anxious or afraid, he didn’t show any signs of it. They caught a movie, had an early dinner and headed home. Dean couldn’t let himself think about it, but it sort of had this feeling like he was taking Sam through his last day.

When they got home they had about two hours before they had to be at the address Mosely had given Sam.

“I guess I should…start…” Sam chewed on his lower lip, the first sign that his confidence was wavering.

Dean grabbed his hand. “Sam…I don’t want to do this. I don’t want you to do this. It should be me.”

“Mosely was pretty specific, Dean.”

“No…I mean, it’s my problem.”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “It’s our problem.” He went to the bed to grab the bag and disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the shower come on.

Dean paced around the room, grabbed a beer from the fridge and dropped onto the bed, turning on the tiny black and white television so he wouldn’t have to think. He was about to pimp out his brother to save his own hide.

It was wrong. Mosely was doing it because he knew what it would do to Dean. He was the whore in this family. Sam was…well, he wasn’t innocent, but he wasn’t…this.

If Dean were stronger…if he were a better brother, Sam wouldn’t be forced to this. He flipped the channels, then turned the television off, getting up to go back to his pacing.

His father would kill him if he ever found out. Assuming his father wasn’t lying dead somewhere.

The bathroom door stayed shut for a long time. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it. Then it opened and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “God no.” Dean groaned.

All Sam’s confidence and bluster was gone. He wouldn’t look up as he stepped out of the bathroom, the now empty bag in his hands along with something else that he was trying to keep hidden.

His long legs were bare, all the way up to where the skirt started. It barely covered his ass. His feet were shoved into his sneakers. His stomach was bare. The halter top barely fit him. His face was made up with pink blush and lipstick, his eyes clumsily darkened with mascara.

His hair was maybe the hardest to look at. He’d pulled it up into sloppy, short pony tails, held with pink elastic and ribbons that dangled down along his neck.

“I…need to…um.” His hands fluttered and the bag fell, revealing the bottle of lube in his hands. “I got this…but I don’t…”

He looked up fleetingly and Dean had to look away. “Jesus Christ Sam.”

“He said….I should…you know…prepare.”

Dean covered his face. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. “We’re not doing this. Get that shit off.”

“No.” Sam moved awkwardly away from the bathroom door where he’d stopped. “I’m okay…I just…don’t really…I don’t know what to do.”

Dean’s eyes locked on his hands, watching them slide up and down over the bottle of lube. Mosely told him to prepare. Like Sam would understand what that meant. Watching him standing there, looking to Dean for assurance, for support, Dean cracked a little and went to him taking the bottle of lube out of his hand.

“He’s a big guy. You need to loosen up, or he’s going to hurt you.”

Sam nodded, but Dean could see he wasn’t getting through. “Okay…put your hands on the table and lean over. I’ll…well…”

Sam did as he was told, still not really sure…not that Dean was either. He poured some lube onto his fingers and warmed it. “Lift…lift the skirt.”

His hands shook as he did. Dean’s hands shook as he moved closer. “I’m going to touch you now. Okay?”

Sam’s nod was jerky and Dean had to swallow a lump of disgust and hurt before he could actually bringing himself to do it. He started with a single finger. Sam jumped and pulled away. “Easy, Sammy…it’s just me…it’s okay.” Sam’s head bobbed up and down and Dean watched him try to relax. He slipped the finger in and out gently, pressing against him, easing him open.

“Okay…second finger.” Sam tensed a little, shifted his feet. Dean slipped a second finger in and worked him open a little more. “You okay?”

He closed his eyes, because nothing about this was okay. He was sticking his fingers into his brother. His in stroke pressed against the nub of nerves that was Sam’s prostate and Sam stiffened.

“Dean.” His voice was strained. His left hand left the table and went to his groin.

Dean licked his lips and scissored his fingers open before plunging them back in and caressing over the spot.

“Fuck, Dean.” His face was red, making the pink lipstick look pale and strange. “I’m…I’m hard.”

Dean nodded. “It’s okay Sam. Just go with it.” Maybe it would be easier if the kid got off before…before Dean gave him over to be fucked like a cheap whore. “Third finger.” He worked another one in, opening Sam’s ass. Mosely wouldn’t care if he hurt Sam. If he tore his ass in the process of getting what he wanted.

“Dean.” Sam’s hand was up under the skirt, pulling on his cock in time to Dean’s stroking into him.

“That’s it Sammy…relax and let it happen.”

“I’m gonna…” And he did, groaning as he came onto the floor under him.

Dean eased his hand out and away, reaching for the roll of paper towels on the counter to clean up. Sam’s face was flushed and he turned away, reaching for a jacket.

“We…we should go.”

Dean nodded and grabbed his own coat. Sam clutched the jacket closed over his ridiculous clothes, but it only reached his knees, leaving his legs exposed. Of course, everyone was going to know exactly where Sam was going and why.

“Here.” Dean pulled his collar up and put a baseball hat on over the ribbons. “Keep your head down. I’ll get you there.”

The address was only a few blocks away…one of the apartment buildings where Mosely put up his whores. Dean guided Sam through the cat calls and staring junkies, flunkies and hustlers, up the stairs to the apartment. He knocked on the door and one of Mosely’s boy’s opened it.

Mosely sat in the middle of a couch with two of his girls. Several of his flunkies filled out the rest of the room. “Well, I was beginning to think you were going to be late.”

The rules said Dean couldn’t talk. Not a sound or he’d kill the whole deal. Sam lifted his head, his eyes skating around the room. “We’re not late.”

“Lose the coat and hat. I want to see my girl.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, but he shrugged off the coat and pulled the hat off.

“Turn around.”

Sam did as he was told. Dean seethed.

“The rest of you get out. I got me some business.”

It was obvious from where Dean stood that he was ready for his business too. His dress pants were already tented. The girls pouted, but did as they were told and the guys followed them out.

For a long minute, Mosely just sat staring. “Been thinking about this all day. How I want it…where…” He stood, adjusting himself. “How hot and tight it’s going to be.” He tossed off the dregs of some drink on the coffee table. “Come on over here.”

Sam took a deep breath, squeezed Dean’s hand and went to where Mosely was standing. Mosely ran a finger over his face, down the neckline of the top. “You ready for me?”

Sam’s nod was shaky, and he tensed when Mosely leaned in to lick over his neck. Mosely’s hands slipped over his waist, around the top of his skirt, then slid down, under, cupping Sam’s ass.

It took everything Dean had not to punch him. His thick fingers kneaded Sam’s ass, pressed in toward his crack. Sam lurched into him when his fingers found his hole. “Mmm…see you got started. Hot.”

Mosely’s eyes met Dean’s. “Did big brother help you? Did you let him touch you?”

Sam jerked back. “Can we just…you know?”

Mosely’s grin was amused. “You want me to fuck you, little girl?”

“How…where?” Sam’s voice was quivering and Dean wanted to grab him and run…just run and never stop.

“Table. Facing the mirror.”

Mosely was still watching Dean as Sam moved into the kitchen alcove. He moved a chair out of the way and took a stance not unlike the one he’d taken for Dean to open him up.

“Ready.”

Mosely and Dean looked at the same time. Sam already looked debauched, his lips all slick and swollen, leaning forward so the skirt inched up. He was looking back at them, one hand on the table, one dangling down his leg. Dean inhaled sharply.

“Come along big brother. I want you to see this.”

Dean yanked his arm away when Mosely reached for him, but went willingly enough to Sam’s side. Mosely took up position behind Sam and unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the ground. His cock sprang up hard and dark. He hissed and cracked his neck.

He positioned Sam’s head so that he was looking in the mirror, then turned to Dean. “Give him to me.”

Dean licked his lips, closed his eyes. Dean touched Sam’s back in apology, let his hand slide down until it was on the skirt. Slowly he pulled it up until Sam’s ass was exposed. He looked at Mosely, but it was obvious he wanted more.

Sam met his eyes in the mirror. He raised an eyebrow, and Dean nodded minutely. If Sam could do this, Dean could. He kept his eyes on Sam and reached to gently separate his ass cheeks, exposing his hole.

“See, now that’s what I’m talking about.” Mosely said with a grin. He guided his cock closer.

Sam’s body tensed, his eyes closed and Dean willed him to open them, to look at him. Mosely groaned and Dean couldn’t help but look as he pressed into Sam. He pressed in incessantly, not giving Sam any time to adjust.

Sam gasped, his hands tightening their grip on the table. Dean looked back to the mirror, to Sam’s eyes. They seemed to say that he was okay. That he could handle it.

The table rocked as Mosely fucked into him, eventually pushing Dean’s hands away so that he could grab Sam’s hips. Dean never let his eyes leave Sam’s.

Sam’s eyes closed, opened, watered, but always came back to Dean’s in the mirror. Mosely’s hand grabbed Sam by one ponytail, pulling him back onto his cock. “Fuck that’s it.”

His rhythm increased, the table creaking and rocking. The sound of flesh slapping into flesh joined the mix along with Mosely’s moaning in pleasure. “Fuck.” He slammed in, pressing Sam down and into the table. His body jerked and he hissed, pulling out before his cock was done spewing, covering Sam’s ass.

He backed off a step. Sam didn’t move for a long minute. Dean found his hand petting over Sam’s back until Sam reached out to stop him. “I’m okay,” he said softly.

He straightened up, flipped the skirt down so it was covering his ass.

“Clean me up.” Mosely said, holding his come slick cock with one hand.

Sam looked to Dean, obviously uncertain. Dean looked to Mosely, then back at Sam, raising one hand to his lips. “Oh.” Sam looked shocked, but turned to the big man. He went to one knee hesitantly. His tongue was tentative and Mosely’s hand fisted in his hair to guide him.

When his cock was spit polished, Mosely pushed him away. “Not bad for a first time. I’ll be in touch.”

Dean helped Sam up and went for his coat.

“Wait.” Sam froze. Mosely smiled at Dean. “Bend over. I want to see.” Sam looked at Dean, then slowly did as he was told, exposing his ass with come oozing out of the red ring of his hole. “Nice.”

Dean slung the coat around his shoulders and guided him out. Sam huddled into the coat and into himself. Neither of them spoke the whole way home.

When the door was safely shut, Sam shuddered and dropped the coat. “Gonna shower.”

Dean just nodded. His first time he’d reacted the same way. Showered six or seven times in two hours. His stomach hurt. When the bathroom door shut Dean collapsed onto the bed. He wasn’t sure what disgusted him more, the thought that he’d given Sam to that fucking bastard, or that he’d gotten hard watching.

The tears spilled hot and silent and he rolled face down into the pillow to hide them. The water kept running and Dean’s cock hurt. He unzipped and wrapped his fist around it. The look on Sam’s face. The sight of that big black cock banging into Sam’s white ass.

It was twisted and wrong and Dean just wanted to forget it all. Instead he jacked off into his fist and got up to wash his hand in the kitchen sink and break out the bottle of whiskey they kept on hand for dealing with pain.

This certainly qualified. He poured two shots and waited for Sam to come out of the bathroom. When he finally did, his skin was red from the hot water and he was dressed in sweats.

Dean handed him the shot and Sam took it without question, downing it, then making a face. The silence was awkward and strange and Dean dealt with it by downing two more shots.

“You should sleep.” Dean said finally when Sam was just standing and staring at the table.

Sam nodded absently and put his glass on the table. He went to the bed, but stopped before laying down. “Don’t go out tonight.”

Dean couldn’t look at him, not when his voice was so shaky and young. “Sam…”

“Just. Just tonight? Stay with me?”

Dean downed one more shot and nodded. He went and checked the lock on the door, cleaned up the salt line and turned off the light. In the small light from the bedside lamp, Sam looked so young. He pulled down the blanket and crawled in, then held up the blankets for Dean.

He slipped into bed and let Sam move closer. They weren’t touching, but there was barely air between them. Sam turned off the light. Dean doubted either one of them would actually sleep.

He wanted to say something…but there weren’t any words for what Sam had done.

Sam’s hand found his and squeezed. Dean squeezed back. Then they both rolled back to back and pretended to sleep.


	2. Don't Say No

Sam didn't get out of bed the morning after, other than a long hot shower near dawn.

Dean didn’t press. Didn't say anything. Not until dinner. “Please eat.”

Sam sat up, but wouldn't look at him. He took the bowl of soup without a word and ate it methodically, then set the bowl on the bedside table and laid back down.

There wasn't anything Dean could say or do. It wasn't a situation he could fix. 

Around eight he showered and got dressed. He didn't want to go out, but he couldn't bear the silence anymore…and they needed the money. He pocketed his keys and squatted by the bed. “I won’t be too late. Tomorrow will be better. Okay?”

Sam didn't respond, didn't move, not until Dean’s lips brushed his forehead. Then his hand caught Dean’s. “Promise?” His voice was so small.

Dean blinked back the tears and nodded. “Promise.”

“Okay.”

Sam pulled the blanket closer around him and closed his eyes. Dean left the apartment and tried to put the whole thing out of his mind. He had varying degrees of success with that as he worked a couple tricks and shot some pool. Even won a little money with a straight bet against a better player and a couple of lucky breaks.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with the bottle of whiskey when he came back. He didn't look up, didn't say anything. Dean headed in to shower, just like he always did.

When he came out, Sam had not moved. “It’s late.” Dean said instinctively. He reached for the bottle. Obviously Sam had a few shots.

“Dad called.” Sam said, his voice dull.

Dean froze. “When?”

“A few hours ago. Said things got messy. Asked if we were okay.”

“What did you say?”

Sam shook his head, took a deep breath and lifted the shot in front of him, draining it before looking up. “I told him we were fine.”

“He coming back?” Dean held his breath. If his father came back now…if his father found out what they’d been forced to do to survive…

“A few weeks, he said.” Sam stood and set his glass back down on the table. “I’m gonna shower.”

Dean nodded. He didn't move until the door was shut, and then it was just to put the bottle away. He stood staring at the bathroom door for a long time before he gave up and headed for the bed. 

He listened to the water run, and what sounded vaguely like crying. Then he listened as Sam made his way to bed, turning off lights as he came. When he crawled into bed beside him, Sam curled toward him, his hands seeking out Dean’s and holding it up under his chin like he used to when they were little and he was afraid to admit he was afraid.

Dean kissed his forehead. “We can still run.”

Sam shook his head. “No.” He blinked, looked up at Dean. “If we try, he’ll kill you. You know that.”

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

“I’m okay. I just…today was hard. I can do this.”

“I never wanted you to.”

Sam was quiet for a minute. “You…you did it for me. The first time, I mean. We couldn’t pay the rent and we didn't have any food…and I was scared.”

“Sam…you don’t owe me anything.” Dean shook his head and brushed the hair out of Sam’s eyes with his free hand.

“Yes, I do. I owe you everything. All my life you've taken care of me. This is my turn. To take care of you.” He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Dean’s hand. “You want to know what’s really stupid?”

“What?” Dean leaned in, kissed his fingers.

“I have to go to school tomorrow…and I’m terrified that everyone will know.”

Dean closed his eyes. “Not stupid. Normal.” Like any of this was normal. “Just be yourself, it’ll be fine. Just fine. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better.”

 

Sam finished his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink. Dean sat up in bed. “You okay?”

Sam nodded. He was edgy and uncertain, but better than he’d been the day before.

“Come straight home after school, okay?”

“Yeah. No worries.” He grabbed his book bag and opened the door, then froze. On the ground in front of the door was a bag.

“Sam?”

It took him a minute, but he reached down and grabbed the bag and stepped back into the apartment. He held it up so Dean could see it. He was up and out of bed in an instant, scratching his hand through his hair. “Leave it. Just leave it and go to school.”

Sam shook his head. “What if…what if he wants me…like…like…you know…early?” He moved to put the bag on the table and licked his lips. “I should at least check the note, right?”

Dean reached for the bag. “Let me.”

Part of him wanted to let him, but this was his job, his duty. He pulled the bag to him and opened it, reaching inside for the paper. He licked his lips and took a deep breath before he unfolded it.

“Five o’clock.” Sam’s eyes scanned the rest of the note. His hands were shaking. “Five at the club, his office. We have to…go through the club.” He cleared his throat and Dean grabbed the paper, his eyes scanning over it. 

“No…Sam, he’s asking too much.”

Sam dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. There was a red leather mini-skirt and a pair of heels, more makeup and a blouse that consisted almost entirely of red lace and sequins, though it was filled with holes. He was going to look like a cheap junkie whore.

The note said to expect this time to take longer, and that maybe he should have Dean give him some pointers on how to suck cock. 

Sam ran a hand over his face. He didn't want to think about it. “I…I gotta go. I've got a test.”

Dean called his name, but Sam shook his head and bolted out the door. If he had to think about it…if he had to remember, he wouldn't make it through the day. Already he felt dirty and wanted to shower. He could do that after first period. Go to the gym. He could shower and be okay.

 

Dean licked his lips as the door shut and went for the jeans he’d been wearing the night before. He’d made a couple hundred dollars. Maybe.

Mosely wasn't really known to be reasonable.

But Dean had to try. He pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, rummaged in Sam’s drawer for his money. With his three hundred and the nearly three Dean had made the night before…maybe.

He set out to find Mosely and convince him that this was better for all of them.

He found Mosely having breakfast at his favorite restaurant, surrounded by the usual thugs and whores.

“Can we talk?”

“Well, well…what brings the older brother out to see me this morning? I trust Sam found his delivery?”

“Yeah, we got it.” Dean cleared his throat. “Look, that’s kinda why I’m here. I put together some money, and—“

Mosely gestured for him to come closer. “Now, why would I want your money? Your brother has it all under control. He and I have an arrangement, a deal.” He cut into the steak on his plate and rubbed a piece of it through the runny eggs. “You coming here like this makes me think maybe Sam’s thinking about breaking the deal. You, of all people, know what that means, don’t you?”

Dean backed off. “No one’s breaking any deals, Mosely. I was just hoping to…adjust the deal.”

“You got everything you owe me?” Mosely looked up at him over his sun glasses.

“Well. No. I got about six—“

“Only way to adjust the deal I have with your brother is if you can pay the whole thing off. Otherwise, I’ll see Sweetcheeks tonight.”

“Why not just take me?” Dean asked. “Why do this?”

Mosely’s grin was evil. “I think that should be obvious, Dean. Because I can. Because I knew the minute I laid on eyes on his sweet, virgin ass that he’d do anything to save you.” He pulled his sun glasses off and gestured at Dean with them. “And I knew you’d let him too.”

 

Somehow he got through the day. He didn't remember most of it and he was fairly certain he bombed his science test, and he’d ducked into the locker room twice to shower…but he made it through. 

He dragged his feet going home. He shouldn't, and he knew it. They couldn’t be late. If they were late, Mosely would get angry. Sam was pretty sure that was something they didn't want.

The smell of food wafted through the open window of the apartment. Not their normal seventy five cent hot dogs from the vendor on the corner either. It smelled like…beef. Like steak.

Frowning, Sam opened the door. Dean looked up from where he was putting plates on the table. “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Eat up.”

“We don’t have time for this. Not to mention the money.”

“Forget the money. Eat.”

“You did something.” Sam came and sat, but watched Dean as he poured a glass of milk and put it in front of him. “What did you do?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing.” He sat and Sam stared until he sighed and put his fork down. “I went to see Mosely. Tried to give him some money.”

Dean wouldn't look at him. “He wouldn't take it.” Sam didn't think he would. Not when he was getting what he wanted from Sam.

“No. He wouldn’t. I tried though Sam. I tried.”

Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I know you did. Thanks.”

He turned to his plate then, eating quickly. They really didn't have much time. When he’d scarfed down most of his steak and potatoes, Sam lurched up.

“Where’s the stuff?”

“Bathroom.” Sam nodded and headed in to dress. The skirt was tight and small and it made his ass look rounder than he thought it was supposed to. The heels were ridiculous, and made him look like he was all legs. They were only two inches or so, but with his big feet all crammed inside them, they felt clumsy and awkward. He pulled the shirt on.

It was two sizes too small and it stretched over his torso, hanging off his shoulders. The holes stretched too, letting his nipples poke through the ripped lace. Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous.

He opened the makeup bag and fumbled his way through eyeliner and blush and lipstick. This time the lipstick was bright red. Sam smeared it over his lips.

It was obscene. 

“Sam, we’re gonna be late.”

“Yeah.” He pulled the door open and clumsily walked out. 

“Damn.”

Sam couldn't look up. “Don’t. Okay?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, right. You want me to…um…” 

Sam looked at his brother, at the bottle of lube in his hand. “He said…I mean…”

“Better prepared than not. Trust me.”

Blow job. The note had said blow job. Dean was still coming toward him with the lube. Sam licked his lips. He was starting to breathe heavy. He was beginning to panic. He had to get it under control. 

Dean was right, of course. It was better to be prepared. Sam clenched his fist and nodded tightly, moving to the table. Dean’s hand was gentle, but it didn't keep Sam from tensing up. “You need to relax or he’ll hurt you.” Dean murmured softly, his lips near Sam’s ear. 

Relax. Sam wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that dressed like this and knowing what was waiting for him…not to mention that his brother had three fingers up inside him. Because that…was not relaxing. Somehow it was arousing, and wrong. And possibly more arousing because of how wrong it was.

Sam jerked himself away from Dean. “Enough. We gotta go.” He smoothed the skirt down, tugged on it to try to cover more of himself. He felt naked and exposed and ridiculous. He shoved his arms into the coat sleeves and pulled it closed around him.

They weren’t a hundred yards from the apartment door when Sam stopped and stepped out of the shoes. There was no way he was walking all the way there in the damn things. 

People were staring at them. It was broad daylight and even with the coat on, it was obvious…he was obvious. Dean did what he could to shield him, but that wasn't any better. By the time they’d made the front of the club, Sam was as red as his skirt.

Dean ran his hands down Sam’s arms. “It’s early, so the club isn't going to be busy. We don’t look up, just head straight to the office, get it over with so we can go home. Okay?”

Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He nodded and put the shoes back on the ground, stepping into them and balancing himself on Dean’s shoulder. He shrugged out of the coat and handed it to Dean as his brother opened the door. Sam stepped into the darkened club.

The door closed behind them and Sam had to pause to let his eyes adjust. It wasn't busy, but every eye in the place, even the stripper on stage, turned to look at them. Dean tugged on his arm and Sam stumbled forward, through the bar area and into the back. A big guy stood outside the office door and held up his hand.

“Mr. Aims has relocated to the private booth.”

“He said his office.” Sam said without looking up. 

“And he changed his mind.” The man pointed with one meaty finger. 

Dean pushed him a little to get him moving. Sam stumbled along, stopping at the door to the private booth. The flunky outside the door grinned appreciatively and knocked at the door. “Mr. Aims, your…date…is here.”

The door opened and Dean led Sam inside.

The room was small, lined with leather couches. Purple leather couches. The walls were red velvet and the floors were covered in some psychedelic carpet that would be nauseating if Sam stared at it for long. It was like some lewd, horrific nightmare place. 

Mosely was seated face the giant window facing into the club. It was one of those mirror on one side, window on the other things…so the people in the booth could watch the goings on in the club, but the club patrons couldn't see into the booth. He was alone, other than the flunky at the door.

His eyes flicked to Sam, then Dean. The door closed. Sam shifted, uncertain. Mosely spread his legs. “You.” He pointed at Dean. “Sit. Over there.” He pointed to the corner. “You, get over here on your knees.”

Sam watched Dean go and licked his lips. It was only two steps. He could do two steps. He went to one knee hesitantly, then inched a little closer, dropping his second knee to the floor. 

“Wanna watch those pretty lips slide over my cock, Sweetcheeks.”

Sam pressed his lips together unconsciously and nodded. “Oh…okay.”

Mosely raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall asking. Get on with it.”

Sam’s hands were shaking as he reached for his zipper. He’d never really handled a cock that wasn’t his own. Not…ever. He unzipped and Mosely’s cock peeked out at him. He reached for it slowly, daring a glance at Dean. 

“It aint gonna break.” Mosely reached in and pulled it out. It bobbed, hardening even as Mosely’s hand slid up and off it. “Better make it good, little girl.”

Sam didn’t have a clue what was good. He’d only ever had his own cock touched once, by a girl who was more interested in her own orgasm than his. He looked at it, thought about what might feel good. He knew what he liked when he was whacking off…but didn’t think that would apply.

He leaned in, his movements jerky and uncertain. He started with his tongue, moving it over the top. He glanced up, but Mosely was looking out at the dancer on the stage. At least he knew it wasn't the wrong thing.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it over the tip, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue over the tip again. Mosely’s hand fell on the back of his head and pushed. Sam’s mouth moved down his cock and when the pressure let up, he slid back up. 

He wasn't sure what to do with his hands and there was an odd breeze under the skirt. Mosely pushed again and Sam felt a bit of panic as his cock invaded Sam’s mouth deeper than he’d intended. 

Dean was watching. Sam could feel his eyes. If he let himself, he could imagine Dean’s hands on his ass earlier…the way it made him hard. Sam closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He just had to get through this. 

He took a deep breath and rose up some on his knees to improve his angle. He could do this. He pressed against Mosely’s thighs, slid his mouth off, licked up the underside, then down to his balls. Dean liked having his balls played with. Sam knew because he’d listened to his big brother talk about sex a lot.

Sam flicked his tongue over Mosely’s balls a time or two, then opened his mouth and descended over his cock, as deep as he thought he could. The thick cock filled his mouth, stretching his lips and Sam sucked in, hollowing out his cheeks and holding it deep for a second before he started sliding back up.

He swirled his tongue around at the top of the stroke, then slid back down fast. He moved up slow, then descended again. Mosely’s hand was still on the back of his head, though now it was just resting there.

Sam dared a look up. He wasn't watching the dancer anymore. His eyes were closed and his hips twitched. They came up off the couch, thrusting into Sam once, twice…then Mosely’s hand was fisting in his hair, pushing Sam back as he stood, shoving his cock into his fast rapidly until his whole body shook and Sam’s mouth flooded with come.

Mosely glowered down at him. “You better swallow that, bitch.”

Sam almost couldn't, gagging on softening cock and salty, bitter come, but he managed a swallow, then another. Mosely pulled back, fell back to the couch. “Little bitch’s a natural.” Mosely said, tossing the comment at Dean.

Sam glanced his way, nodding a little to tell his brother he was okay. Dean started to get up.

“Sit your ass down.” Mosely said, though his eyes never left the dancer on the stage.

“I thought…” Sam looked up at him.

Mosely’s grin was sly. “Told you it would take a while. I ain’t done.”

“But…I…”

“Relax, enjoy the show.”

“Three times. You said three times.”

Mosely’s hand petted his hair. “Yes, your ass, my dick. Three times.”

“Then…what was that?”

Mosely pulled his eyes away from the window and looked at Sam. “That was a damn fine first blow job. You should be proud. I’ll make you a hot little whore yet. Give your big brother a run for the money.” He stopped petting and grinned. “Maybe you two could team up. I hear there’s a market out there for hot brother asses.”

Sam fumed. He pulled away, got to his feet, but not before his nearly hard cock flashed out from under the skirt. Mosely laughed. “You hard, baby? Want me to take the edge off for you?” He reached for Sam, but Sam pulled away.

“Fuck you.”

Mosely’s smile was slow and lazy. “Patience, sugar. The night is young. Come sit down.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“You wanna blow our deal? Fine by me. I’ll just take it out of your brother’s skin in the morning.” Mosely sat back and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Sam paced…over to the door, the corner. He was furious and ashamed and embarrassed. The fucker had played him. Played him good.

Dean was across the room and at his side, his eyes telling Sam they should go. Sam shook his head. Covered Dean’s mouth. If he said a word it was over. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Dean’s face was filly with fury. “It’s okay.” Sam whispered. Dean shook his head and pointed at the door. “We’ll stay.” Sam kissed Dean’s forehead, then froze. His cock brushed Dean’s thigh.

Dean’s eyebrow shot up and it was Sam’s turn to shake his head. “It’s nothing.” Because Sam wasn't sure which would be worse, Dean thinking Sam had gotten hard sucking the fucker’s cock, or Dean knowing it was because Sam was thinking about Dean’s fingers fucking his ass.

“You better get your ass on over here, I’m getting lonely.” Sam licked his lips and went back to Mosely, who patted the seat beside him. Sam sat, trying to adjust the skirt to cover his naked ass and not really succeeding.

Dean slowly went back to the corner and perched on the couch like he was ready to fly off it and beat the shit out of Mosely.

Mosely slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulled him in so he was half laying across Mosley, then promptly seemed to forget Sam was even there. Dancers came and went on the stage. A waitress brought in drinks. Mosely never tucked his cock back in and it showed various signs of interest as time passed.

Sam was beginning to think it would never happen, then Mosely shifted, looked at Sam, then down at his cock. It seemed to harden just like that. Mosely brought his legs together and pushed Sam up. “Now?” Sam asked, his voice all breathy and scratchy.

“Now. Hike up that skirt and fuck yourself.”

Sam looked to Dean, then down at Mosely. “What?”

Mosely patted his thighs. “Sit on my lap little girl.” He grinned.

“I…” Sam nodded. He stood. Mosely’s cock was dark and hard and he held the base, making it point up. Sam moved, turned his back to the big guy and bunched up the skirt. It had been hours since Dean had prepped him…it was probably dry. It was going to hurt.

Sam reached for the cock as he straddled Mosely’s legs and slowly squatted. His thighs burned. Sam’s eyes were closed as he guided the tip toward his hole. He couldn’t look at Dean, couldn’t think about the way his own cock was hanging out there, still half hard.

The tip pushed into him. Sam let out a shaky breath. He had to reach back and brace himself on Mosely’s shoulder. Then there was a hand on his face. He looked up. Dean was there, in front of him, arms folded and held out for Sam to grab. He grabbed Dean’s forearms and held onto him, lowering himself again.

Mosely seemed bigger than the first time…or maybe it was the angle…or maybe it was because he was making Sam do it, instead of just taking him like he had before. It took three tries to get it fully inside him, and he paused there, sitting on Mosely’s lap with his cock up Sam’s ass. He could scarcely breathe. 

Dean’s arms moved up, encouraging Sam to move. It burned, almost more the second time. Sam rose up and sank down, holding Dean’s arms for leverage, leaning forward toward his brother. He let his mind wander…let himself imagine that this was someone other than Mosely…someone…fuck. He’d leaned a little more and Mosely’s cock hit that same spot Dean had the first time he’d prepped Sam.

Sam’s cock definitely liked that spot. It was full on hard now and Sam was sweating, panting. He needed Mosely to finish. Needed to get out of there before he knew. Before he saw.

Sam glanced up at Dean. Dean’s eyes were squarely on Sam’s face. Sam nodded. He tried to move faster, to clench his ass around the cock moving in and out of him.

Mosely grunted, his hips rising up to meet Sam’s movement. It wouldn’t be long now. His hands came to Sam’s hips and pushed him down hard as his cock seemed to swell and started spewing come. He pushed up twice, then pushed Sam up and into Dean’s arms.

Sam gasped and struggled to get the skirt down before either of them could see how hard he was. Mosely slapped Sam’s ass and laughed. “One hot ass.” His finger penetrated Sam, squelching on the abundance of come inside him, then he pulled it out and dragged it down Sam’s thigh.

“Make sure I can watch you as you leave.”

Sam made a beeline for the door, with Dean behind him. He could feel come leaking out his ass, down his thigh. He was hyperventilating, pushing through the crowd that had gathered while they’d been in the booth. He got out the door and three steps away before he was tripping on the heels and stopped, turning to face the wall and kicking the shoes off and trying hard not to start bawling right there on the street.

Dean caught up to him, grabbing him around the shoulders and dragging him into the alley. “Sam. Sam.” His hands pulled Sam’s face up, his lips pressed to Sam’s cheek. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” Sam was shaking, shivering. His cock pushed against the leather of the skirt and his hands moved to cradle it. Tears leaked onto his cheeks and Dean kissed them away.

“Shh…shhh…Let me.” Dean’s hand slithered down Sam’s arm, down under the skirt and closed around Sam’s cock. Sam stiffened, shuddered.

“Dean.”

Dean’s lips pressed against his. “Don’t say no.” Dean whispered, pulling his hand along Sam’s dick. “Don’t say no. Let me do this.”

His hand stroked, warm, the calloused skin making Sam gasp as his thumb swiped over the tip, over the slit. Sam’s hands closed on Dean’s upper arms, His breath shuddered. This was so much different than when he did it himself. Hot. Wrong. “Fuck.”

Sam’s brain stopped. Just stopped and he shuddered as his orgasm started. His come spilled onto the dirty pavement between his brother’s feet and Sam just leaned into Dean, gasping for air.

Dean soothed the skirt down, slipped the coat up and over Sam’s shoulders, rubbing over his back. “Let’s get you home.”

Sam let Dean guide him, lead him. Numb. At least until they got inside and Dean had let go of him. Then he felt cold. “Shower.”

Sam nodded, shrugging off the coat and heading into the bathroom. He stood under the water until it ran cold, then a little longer. When he got out, Dean had left him a clean pair of sweats. Dean met him in the kitchen with a shot of whiskey, then walked him to the bed. “Sleep Sam. It’ll be over soon.”

Sleep. Sam closed his eyes. Over. Somehow, he didn’t think it would ever be over.


	3. Chapter 3

“Sam, can I have a word?”

Sam paused on his way out of his history class and glanced at his teacher. He nodded tightly and they waited as the rest of the class filed out of the room, when they were alone, Mr. Glenn got up and closed the door, before coming back to lean against his desk and cross his arms.

“Is everything okay, Sam?”

Sam swallowed and looked away. Of course everything wasn’t okay, but he wasn’t about to tell his history teacher that. “Of course.” His voice was tight, strained.

Mr. Glenn nodded. “I ask because you’ve been acting strangely all week. I want you to know that you can talk to me.”

Sam shook his head, his ass clenching against the desk behind him. “Thanks, Mr. Glenn. But I’m okay.”

Mr. Glenn regarded him for a moment, then dropped his gaze. “I heard a rumor that you’ve been spending time with Mosely Aims.”

Panic shot through Sam. He stood upright. “No. I mean, we live near his club, you know? Walk past it sometimes.”

“No matter what a man like him offers you, Sam, he’s only after one thing.”

“Believe me, I know.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest, hoping the teacher would see through him, wouldn’t know. “I…I really have to get going. Dean’s expecting me.”

He didn’t wait for Mr. Glenn to respond, he bolted for the door, head down. He had to get home, get ready. Tonight was the last time. It would be over in just a few hours, and they could get back to their lives. 

“Hey Winchester!”

He didn’t stop, just kept moving.

“Winchester!” 

They caught him at the corner, surrounding him. Six boys from the rough and tumble neighborhood Sam and Dean lived in. “We were calling you.”

“I don’t have time, Rick. I’ve got things to do.”

“Way I hear it, you’re the one being done.”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to push through them, but Tyrone caught his arm.

“Mosely Aims.” Tyrone said, leaning in. “My cousin works for him. Says you been visiting.”

Sam pulled loose and shook his head. “Your cousin’s telling stories. I got work to do at home.” He pushed through them, but only got a few steps before they were circling around him again.

“You a whore like your brother, Sammy?” Rick asked. “Take it up the ass for a little cash?”

“Fuck off Rick.” Sam growled.

“How much? I always wondered what the big deal was. How about we go into the alley over there. I got fifty bucks.”

Sam pushed again, but this time the circle held. “Let me through.”

“Problem?”

Everyone in the circle froze. “Dean, I was on my way.” Sam said, thanking him with his eyes.

“I told you straight home.” He reached through two of the boys to grab Sam’s shoulder. They parted and let him through. “You got work to do.” He maneuvered Sam in front of him, then turned back to the boys. “You boys ever touch my brother again, you’ll answer to me.”

Sam was shaking when they got around the corner, part from the altercation, part in anticipation of what was coming. “They won’t be scared off for long. You’re going to have to watch your back.” Dean said, hurrying them along.

Once in the apartment Sam relaxed a little. At least he knew what to do next. Shower. Dress. That stopped him. He looked at the bag on the table. He hadn’t looked yet. Didn’t know what new humiliation waited him. But it would be over. The last time.

“I came because Mosely sent someone to say things had changed. We got a longer walk.”

Sam nodded, though he hadn’t really heard. “What? Where?”

Dean made a face. “Some warehouse.”

“Yeah, okay. I guess I’ll shower.”

It would be his fourth for the day. Never felt clean for very long. His skin was dry in places. The bottom of his feet cracked. He grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom.

It wasn’t until the bathroom door was closed that he opened the bag. He closed it again, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He wasn’t sure he could deal with it. He pulled out the note again. Read it through.

Then he left it all and got in the shower. He scrubbed and turned the hot water on as high as he could, watching his skin turn red. He could do this. He repeated it like a mantra to himself until the water started to turn cold.

There was no make up this time. No skirt or heels. 

There was a pair of white lace panties. There was a leash and collar of white patent leather. Dean was required to lead him in with the leash, give the leash to Mosely. Dean wouldn’t be allowed to watch this time. He would give Sam over and leave. Wait outside.

The note told him to use a lot of lube. At the bottom of the bag was…a black plastic…well, Sam assumed it was a butt plug. He’d never actually seen one, not like that. He was supposed to put it in and keep it there until Mosely took it out.

He could do this.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t convinced he could. In shaking hands he pulled the lube out of the medicine chest and squirted some on his fingers. He didn’t want to have to make Dean do it. Not again. Not after…Sam slid his slicked up fingers inside himself. Tried to mimic what Dean had done. It took time with the awkward position, but slowly he felt his opening loosen. 

He used more lube, then reached for the plug. He licked his lips. How hard could it be? It wasn’t as big as Mosely’s dick. It couldn’t possibly hurt as much. Sam settled it against his ass and pressed lightly. Its rounded tip slipped in easily, though the friction increased as the plug widened. Sam’s mouth dropped open as he kept pressing it in, and then suddenly it popped and the biggest part of the head was inside him, the flared bottom resting flush against his ass.

Sam breathed through the discomfort, shifted his weight. He could feel it there. Inside him. Filling him. He reached next for the panties, trying not to look at them as he pulled them on. They were more humiliating than the skirts. They were stretchy and thin and he felt like he wasn’t wearing anything at all, except where the elastic around the leg holes stretched tight against his thighs. He was uncomfortable. Naked. 

He adjusted his cock so the lace mostly covered it and didn’t look at himself. Couldn’t look at himself. He lifted the collar and swallowed. He huffed twice before he put it against his neck. 

He could do this.

It barely fit, buckling tight against the column of his throat. He swallowed again, feeling the way it constrained him. It only took a second to be too much and he frantically pulled it off.

“Sam?”

“I’m okay Dean.” _I’m okay. I can do this._ It was all a lie. Even his voice betrayed him. 

Dean opened the door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Sam blinked back tears, holding up the collar. “I—I don’t think….I don’t think I can do it.”

“Shh…here…” He took the collar, then took Sam’s hand, leading him out to the table. His threadbare flannel bathrobe lay over his chair. Sam put it on slowly, covering his nearly naked body. Dean must have known. Must have looked in the bag. “We don’t have to.”

They both looked at the collar in Dean’s hands. 

“Yeah. We do.”

“I’ve got soup on.”

Sam shook his head. “Not hungry. I just…I want it over.”

“Sam. I—“ Dean looked away and Sam nodded.

“I know.” He swallowed and reached again for the collar. “It’s almost over.”

He slid the leather around his neck and buckled it. The long trench coat Dean had found lay on the back of the couch. Sam slipped his feet into his sneakers for the walk. He’d have to take it all off once they got there, but…until then…He grimaced as he took the two steps to the couch. His ass burned, stretched around the plug. 

It was just starting to get dark when they left the apartment. Music blared from some window. A group of boys on the corner were rapping. They had a bit of a walk, through some of the toughest stretches of neighborhood. 

Dean had wanted to take a cab, but the note had said to walk. So they walked. Sam wasn’t sure which would have been worse with the butt plug up his ass, the walking or the sitting. Dean had the leash in his pocket. Sam had the collar of his coat turned up to hide the leather around his neck.

They walked in silence, Dean’s hand brushing Sam’s every few steps as if to remind him he was right there…and that they could run. Sam just had to say the word. Sam stopped in sight of the warehouse. There were cars and trucks, people milling around. He was already starting to breath heavy. “Just, give me a minute.”

Dean gathered him close, drew him into the shadows between buildings. “Breathe, Sammy.”

“I can do this. I can do this.” Sam whispered over and over.

“You don’t have to. I’ll find another way.”

Sam shook his head and started to pull of the coat. “No. Let’s just get it over with.”

 

Dean’s heart was thumping inside his chest, beating out a litany of things his father was going to do when he found out. And he would. Somehow. Dean just knew it. When it was over, they were leaving. School or no school. 

The crowd outside the warehouse was starting to disperse as they got closer, and no one said a word, though they stared as Dean led Sam to the door. Sam didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes down and followed. Inside there was a small office area and a door leading back into the warehouse. 

One of Mosely’s guys opened that door and beckoned them in.

“You’re late.” Mosely bellowed, pushing someone out of his way and stalking toward them. The place was empty, but for a bed and a bunch of lights. Mosely grinned. Dean wanted to punch him in the nuts. He wanted to disembowel him. Cut off his nose…and other choice bits of his anatomy. “Give him to me.”

Dean clenched his jaw and lifted the end of the leash. Mosely took it, winding it around his fist until Sam was forced to take a step forward. His eyes never left Dean’s though, even when he held his hand, and the leash, out to one of his flunkies. “Get Sweetcheeks here ready for me, while I have a word with big brother.”

Sam looked at him once as he was pulled away, then Mosely was turning Dean and taking him back to the door. “You wait here. I hear a word or see your face, the deal’s off and you whored out your baby brother for nothing. Got me?”

Dean nodded tightly. “Good. There’s coffee. Help yourself.”

Mosely closed the door and left Dean fuming. He paced, trying to hear what was going on inside, hoping Sam was okay…and starting to plan his revenge.

 

Sam didn’t fight, exactly. He stumbled a little on the filthy floor as the guy holding the end of the leash tugged. Then came the panic. “Up on the bed. On your knees.” Even as he was doing that, the man pulled and looped the leash around a hook in the high headboard of the bed, pulling it so tight that Sam’s nose was only about six inches from the headboard.

The sheets beneath him were wet…and he could tell by the smell that there had been sex there. A lot of sex.

The man grabbed at a wrist and pulled, slapping into a Velcro restraint off to the side. Another man came and did the same on the other side. Then they were pulling on his hips, spreading his knees…and there was more Velcro on his ankles and calves.

“Very nice boys.” They backed off and Mosely took their place. “You are quiet pretty like that, you know?”

“Stop playing games.” Sam said through clenched teeth. “Just get on with it.”

Mosely petted through his hair. “Oh, I’ll get on with it. But first, I thought we’d have a drink.” He snapped his fingers and Sam couldn’t see why, not until Mosely pulled his head back. “Open wide.” He poured a stream of water into Sam’s mouth and Sam was forced to swallow or drown. “That’s a good girl. It’ll help loosen you up…so we can have some fun.” He slapped Sam’s ass then, driving the plug up inside him.

It didn’t take long to figure out there was something in the water. Sam’s vision got a little blurry, his tongue thick. Mosely was laughing, his fingers touching, sliding over Sam’s skin with something that was tingly…hot…wet. 

“We’re going to see how much big brother follows the rules, tonight, little girl. Gonna make you scream and moan…make you beg…does he love you enough to come in here and save you?”

Something harder than a hand fell on Sam’s ass and he yelped. It came again, and again. 

“Look so good in lace…bet I could get a fortune for you...” The bed shifted and hands were pulling the lace down…the plug shifted, slowly came out, only to be shoved back in. Mosely fucked into him, angling it back and forth until he found that spot…the one that made Sam’s cock take notice.

There was laughter. A lot of laughter. Sam shook his head, trying to clear it. “Just do it already.” He growled, shaking against the restraints. 

“Hear our little whore? She can’t wait to have my big cock inside her.” Mosely leaned in over Sam, his breath hot against the side of his face. “Tell me how you want me, baby…”

Sam closed his eyes and tried to pull away. “Just…get it over with.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” There were more slaps, now against his bare ass. “This just isn’t big enough.” He pulled the plug out, then Sam felt something else….something big. “Hope you used enough lube.” Mosely said as he pressed. 

Whatever it was, it was big and it hurt. Sam tensed against it, fighting it. “Yell when it hurts, baby. I want big brother to hear you.”

Sam bit his lip and tried to hold it in. There was a moment of relief as it slid out, but it was brief as Mosely shoved it all the harder. Sam couldn’t help but scream as it sank into him, thick and deep and more than anything he’d ever had, ever thought….

Mosely and the others were laughing. Sam sagged against the headboard, his cock grazing the grimy sheets. It was hard and Sam gasped as the slick wet cotton slid along it. Mosely’s hand reached between Sam’s legs and fondled his balls. “Whore.” Mosely whispered in his ear.

He petted down over Sam’s back and squeezed his balls with the other hand. “Hot little whore.” He squeezed harder and Sam yelled again, pulling on his wrists. His hand moved to Sam’s cock. “I saw you.” He pulled down on it. “I saw you in the alley, with your brother.” He jerked Sam slow but hard. “I saw him stick his hand up under your skirt and jack you off.”

Sam shivered and fought the sensation, the building orgasm. He didn’t want to come like this. It was dirty, wrong. Whatever drug had been in the water though…it weakened him, made him less in control.

Mosely’s hand left his back, moved to his ass, to the fucking fake cock shoved up inside him. He pulled it out and rammed it back in, Sam screamed, shook. He set up a rhythm, a pull on his cock while he pulled out the dildo, then he’d ram it in while his hand slid down his cock. “Dean.” He whispered it into the wood of the headboard.

“Did you return the favor, whore?” Sam could feel Mosely’s lips on his ear. Moist, disgusting. “Did you get down on your knees and suck him with that whore’s mouth?” 

Sam clenched his teeth as Mosely fucked him all the harder with the fake cock, jacked him all the rougher. He grunted and tried not to yell, not scream. “Has he bent you over the kitchen table yet and taken some of this sweet ass?” 

Mosely closed his fist over Sam’s cock and squeezed as Sam started to come, making it longer, harder…slower. “You know he wants to. I could see it in his eyes while you were fucking yourself on my cock.”

He let go of Sam’s cock and his orgasm spilled onto the bed under him. Mosley chuckled and pulled the dildo out. He dumped it on the bed under Sam. “Tools of the trade, baby. Get used to it.” The bed moved. Someone was behind Sam, and it wasn’t Mosely. 

“No.” Sam shook his head, pulled on the restraints.

Mosely looked amused. “Yes. I ain’t quite done with you yet. Go on.” 

Sam almost couldn’t feel it, not after the huge dildo, not until the man was balls deep and laying on his back. He moved fast, hard and when he came, Sam certainly felt that. “Please. Just. End it.”

“You’re going to be leaving a trail of come when you go home, baby.” Mosely said, caressing over Sam’s face with mock tenderness.

 

Dean couldn’t sit still. Not with Sam’s screams and whimpers. At first he didn’t understand why he could hear them so clearly, then he realized there were speakers in the corners. 

Mosely wanted him to hear.

He couldn’t count the number of times he went to the door. At least three he got so far as to touch the door knob. He was just about ready to go tearing in there when it stopped. Like the speakers had been cut off.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Mosely stepped out, zipping up his pants. “You and me? We’re square. Now get your whore off my property, and don’t cross me again.”

Dean scrambled past him. The room was darker now, most of the big lights turned off. Mosely’s men followed him out. Sam lay on the bed, on his side, curled up in a ball. 

“Sammy?”

He stiffened, covered his face. He curled in tighter. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m going to get you home.”

Sam was shaking. The lace panties were still around his thighs. “Let’s get these off you.” He reached for Sam, but Sam pulled away.

“Don’t.” He sat up slowly. “I…I can…” He pushed at the lace with one hand, covering his cock with the other.

Once he’d gotten them off, Dean handed him first his bathrobe, then put his shoes on the floor. Sam moved slowly, stiffly. “What did he do?” Dean asked in a whisper, not sure he really wanted to know. On the bed behind Sam he spotted a big black dildo, and he got a pretty good idea of what Mosely had done.

Sam shook his head. “It’s over. That’s all that matters.” He stuck his feet into his shoes and stood. “It’s over.”

“Yeah, Sam. It’s over.” Dean slung the coat around his shoulders, his fingers brushing over the collar. Sam cringed. Dean worked the buckle and pulled it off, tossing it on the bed. “There…see, over. It’s all over.”

Sam shuffled more than walked toward the door with Dean following. Sam stiffened near the door. There was come oozing down his leg. Dean swallowed and bent to flick it off. He did it again when they got to the street. 

Obviously that was more than just Mosely.

Dean was going to kill the bastard. Gut him. Salt and burn him. Less than a block away from the warehouse, Dean spotted a cab and flagged it down. Sam didn’t even argue, just climbed in, leaning against Dean so his ass didn’t touch the seat.

Dean paid the cabby and helped Sam out and into the apartment, straight into the bathroom where he started the shower. He peeled off the coat, and reached for the bathrobe. “Come on Sammy, in you go.” Sam was shivering as obeyed blindly, dropping the bathrobe into Dean’s hands.

He left Sam there and took the robe and coat straight out to the trash. Both were soaked through with come. Dean didn’t ever want to see them again. He restarted the soup and poured the whiskey. Sam was going to need both.

He sat at the table and listened to the shower. At least the next day was Saturday and Sam didn’t have to worry about school. He could sleep, rest. Put this all behind him.

Dean shook his head. He was deluding himself. Neither one of them was going to put this behind them any time soon. He slammed a shot of whiskey, then a second. The shower stopped and after a few minutes, Sam shuffled out, wrapped in a towel. He was still moving slowly.

“Can you sit?”

Sam didn’t look at him as he made a face. “Don’t think so.”

“I’ll get a pillow.” He settled a pillow onto the chair and helped Sam sit gingerly, then handed him a shot of whiskey. “Drink this. I’ll get you some soup.”

“Not hungry.” He downed the shot though and reached a shaking hand for the bottle. After his second, he glanced up at Dean, then away. “I just…I want to sleep.”

“Okay.” Dean helped him up, over to the bed. 

“Stop.” Sam pushed him a little. “I can manage.” He winced as he sat, then shifted so he was on his hip. 

Dean went to one knee beside the bed, brushing a hand over Sam’s forehead. “I should never have let you do this.”

“I’m okay.” Sam said, though neither of them believed it anymore.

“God Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Sam’s eyes closed. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I couldn’t lose you.”

“You won’t ever lose me, Sam.” Dean said fiercely. “Never.”


	4. Don't Leave Me

Sam didn’t ask where Dean stole the sleeping pills. He took them and swallowed them down and curled up in a ball and he slept. The whole weekend was a blur of sleep and showers.

Monday morning Sam woke to a cold panic. Sometimes it was the feeling of Dean’s body in the bed behind his that did it. Other times, it was the absence of Dean’s body in the bed behind his.

Dean’s touch was light on his forehead. Sam opened his eyes to find Dean squatting beside the bed fully dressed. Sam looked at the clock. He was late for school.

“Easy, I already called you in sick. Sleep, pull yourself together. You can go tomorrow.”

Normally Sam would have argued. Instead, he just nodded. 

“I have a few errands to run, okay? I’ll be gone a few hours.”

Dean kissed his forehead and Sam closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep.

 

Dean shut the door to the apartment, checking the lock. He had nearly $800 in his pocket, and he had every intention of buying some beat up piece of shit car that would get them far enough away they could forget they ever met Mosely Aims.

But not before Mosely Aims came to regret the day he’d ever laid eyes on the Winchester brothers.

Dean wasn’t so much running errands as he was hunting. He’d spent large parts of the weekend watching Mosely and his operation and planning. Whatever he did it had to be untraceable to him or Sam. It had to be quick and it had to be justice. Any number of messy, ugly deaths would make Dean happy.

As long as Sam never knew. He’d do the deed and leave town the same day. Soon. Very soon.

 

Sam wasn’t really sleeping anymore…he just couldn’t bring himself to get up. He huddled under blankets, sweating in two layers of clothes. He wanted Dean to come home. He didn’t want to be alone.

The knock on the door startled him. So did the voice that followed. “Dean?”

Sam got out of bed and shuffled cautiously across the floor, peering through the peep hole to confirm his suspicion. His heart raced and he had to fight to control the panic. He opened the door slowly.

“Dad?”

John Winchester grinned at him, pushing the door open and stepping inside, then frowning. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Yeah, hi to you too.” Sam said, shutting the door. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

His father pulled him into a hug and Sam did his best not to stiffen, not to panic. This wasn’t Mosely, or one of his goons. This was his father. “It’s good to see you boy.”

Sam couldn’t quite bring himself to say the same. He was supposed to have time…to adjust, to put it behind him. “I thought you said you’d be a few weeks.”

John nodded and dumped his duffle on the beat up couch. “Got some help, wrapped it up. Where’s your brother?”

Sam shuffled back toward the bed. “Out. Errands or something. Said he’d be back soon.” He crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up. “There’s coffee, and there should be some food in the fridge.”

Inside, his heart was hammering. He was going to know. He was going to look at him and just know. He closed his eyes. 

He didn’t sense his father moving closer, not until the bed dipped and his hand touched Sam’s head. “You okay?”

“Tired.” Sam choked the word out.

“Me too, drove all night. Mind sharing with your old man?”

He wanted to say yes that he did mind…that the idea terrified him, but he just burrowed in deeper, and let his father interpret the silence however he wanted. Sam heard the dull thud of boots hitting the floor, felt the bed shift as his father stood to pull off his jeans, then laid down, stretching out on Dean’s side of the bed.

He fought the panic that rose in his stomach, the feeling of _dirty_ that had become so much a part of him. He waited until his father’s breathing evened out and settled, then slid from the bed to head to the bathroom. He had to get clean before his father saw the truth.

He stood under the hot water until it started to run cold, then climbed out and dried off. His body didn’t hurt as much as it had. He decided that was a good sign. He stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the lump of his father on the bed. 

Better, but not ready for John Winchester. Sam dressed as quietly as he could, left a note for Dean on the table, telling him he’d gone to pick up his homework from school. He grabbed his backpack and headed out. He’d get to school just as the last bell was ringing.

Sam kept his head down as he walked, stepping around the usual obstacles, bums sleeping on the sidewalk, drug deals he didn’t want to know about, whores already starting to gather on the streets near hooker alley. He’d seen Dean there once. Down hooker alley on his knees. He didn’t know. Sam couldn’t bring himself to tell him.

He averted his eyes now when he walked past. He rounded the corner and bounded across the street, angling behind the drug store to hit the back door of the high school. 

The halls were mostly empty, last class not quite done. Sam headed to his locker, propping his back pack up to pull out his books. He hadn’t done any of his homework, but it wouldn’t take him much to catch up.

If they didn’t just take off. Dean had had that look in his eye since…well, since Friday night. Since Sam had gotten him square with Mosely. Sam shook it off. He wasn’t going to think about that. Dean wanted to go. Sam wasn’t entirely sure he disagreed. 

And now, their father was back. They could just go.

He sighed and fished out his calculus notebook, shoving it into his now empty backpack. As he did, an envelope fell out and landed on the floor. Sam frowned and squatted down to get it. 

He’d forgotten it. 

It was there in the mailbox on Friday morning, all alone. Like it had come after the regular mail on Thursday or something. Dean usually got the mail in the afternoon, but Sam always checked on his way out in the morning, just in case. 

He turned it over twice, then shoved it in his pocket before grabbing his assignment book and heading for Mr. Glenn’s class. No point hauling books around until he knew what assignments there were.

The bell rang just as he reached the door. Kids poured out of rooms all around him.

“Look Tyrone, the little girl whore is finally recovered from her big night.”

Sam sighed and fought the urge to turn around. “Where’s your skirt, Sweetcheeks?”

Sam’s face blushed red. Rick grabbed him and Sam pulled away, surging closer to the door. “Come on baby, we just want a little taste.”

Sam turned, his eyes flashing over Rick and Tyrone. “Back off.”

“Or what? Your pimp going to come beat us up?”

Sam didn’t know how they knew what they knew. “No, but I might.” His hands were tight fists and they laughed.

“My brother showed us a really interesting movie this weekend.” Tyrone said, leering at Sam. “The Making of a Cheap Whore in Three _Easy_ Steps.”

“Sam, is there a problem?”

They looked up at Mr. Glenn. “No problem.” Sam said.

Rick laughed. “Hey, we’ll catch you later, Sweetcheeks.”

Sam shook his head and exhaled slowly. “Hey, Mr. Glenn. I was hoping…well…” He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and held it up. “I can’t look.”

The teacher grinned and nodded. “Come on in.” He pulled the door shut behind him. “You sure?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go on.”

Mr. Glenn reached for the letter opener on his desk and ripped the envelope open. His eyes scanned the letter and his grin broadened. “Congratulations, Sam.”

Sam exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Really? I got in?”

“Not just in.” Mr. Glenn handed the piece of paper across to Sam. “They’re offering you a full scholarship.”

“What?” Sam grabbed the paper. Just like that, everything changed. His eyes skimmed over the page, then up to his teacher. “Stanford. It’s…unreal.”

“No, it’s very real. I’m very proud of you.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Not to mention how he was going to tell their father…or Dean. His happiness dimmed a little at the thought. He couldn’t leave Dean. No, Dean would come with him. They could find a place and they could make it work. For the moment he chose to ignore his father. 

“So, you weren’t in class today?”

Sam tore himself out of his fantasy of him and Dean in California and nodded. “I was sick to my stomach this morning. I…um…I’m feeling better.”

“Yeah, I’d feel better too. You sure that’s all? Nothing you want to tell me?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, I’m good. I just came in to get homework assignments so I can get caught up.”

“You want a ride home? I’m headed your way.”

“No, thanks. I’m just getting started. I’ll walk.”

“Just watch your back, okay Sam? Rick and Tyrone…they’re bad news.”

“Yeah. I know. Thanks again Mr. Glenn.”

 

Dean unlocked the door, then froze. Sam wasn’t there, but someone was. He pulled the gun from his boot and moved in cautiously. Two steps in he dropped the gun. His father grinned at him from the kitchen.

“Nice reflexes.”

Dean shut the door. “It’s a rough neighborhood.” He dropped his keys on the table and hugged his father. “Good to see you.”

“You too.” John patted his back, then stepped back. “I started some dinner.”

“Where’s Sam?”

John shook his head. “He must have been feeling better. Left a note saying he was going to the school to pick up his homework.”

Dean looked out the window. It was starting to get dark. He scratched his head. “How long ago?”

John shook his head. “Not sure. I crashed out pretty hard.”

He didn’t like the idea of Sam out on the streets alone after dark. Not when half the neighborhood knew…”I should go check up on him.”

“He’s a big boy.” John countered, turning back to the stove.

“Like I said, rough neighborhood. He’s been getting some trouble from…” From men that Dean should have protected him from. “I’m just gonna go look for him. I’ll be back before long.” He snatched up his keys, then stopped. “We were leaving. Just so you know. I planned to be gone tomorrow or the next day.”

“Doesn’t Sam have a semester to finish?” 

Dean ran a hand over his face. “He can finish it somewhere else. I need to get him out of this place.”

John turned back to face him, concern washing over his face. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s bad Dad. Bad like we haven’t had before.” Dean tried to stop himself, tried, but the anger bubbled up inside him. “Where the fuck were you?”

“New Orleans.” John responded, stepping toward him now. “What’s going on Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, I’m handling it. Just be ready to move.”

He headed out the door, surprised when his father’s hand closed around his wrist. “You better tell me.”

“Only if you tell me why you’ve been gone for ten fucking months.” Dean countered. His father let go of him. 

“I’ll come with you.”

Dean shook his head. “I’ve been taking care of him all this time. I’ll deal with it.”

He left his father standing in the doorway and headed toward the school. Fear nibbled at him. He doubted Mosely would bother Sam…but those kids from school might. Especially since Dean had found out that the brother of one of them was one of the fuckers Mosely had let fuck Sam on Friday.

The rumor on the street was that Mosely wanted to add Sam to his stable of street whores…and he was willing to do almost anything to drive him to it. 

It wouldn’t happen. Not if Dean had anything to say about it. In fact, if Dean had any say, Mosely wouldn’t be getting it up anytime soon. It had taken him all day to get the spell finished and the mojo bags stashed where they would do the most good. It was step one of his plan.

A plan that might just get derailed with his father back in town.

Dean was watching the street. With the coming of the dark, it should be busier than this. The normal whores were scarce. Drug dealers were keeping to the shadows.

He was almost to hooker alley. 

It was a deep gash of an alley, widening into a triangle toward the back, with a filthy old mattress and a broken-down couch and plenty of wall space for illicit transactions. Dean had used it more than once when he was desperate. 

Normally one or another of the local big boys kept watch on the alley, making sure things didn’t get out of hand. Dean didn’t see any of them yet, but it was early. There was laughter and a group of young men appeared at the mouth of the alley, two of them still zipping up, one of them tossing a used condom behind him.

One of them was staring at Dean and Dean stopped, looking back. He recognized the little shit from the altercation on Friday. Rick. That’s what Sam had called him. The ring leader of the little pack that had been harassing Sam.

The kid grinned at Dean, kissed two fingers and held them up in salute, then they all turned and headed off toward Mosely’s club. Dean shook his head and started to walk past the alley once they were all gone.

He glanced aside, half curious to see who the boys had been with, half wondering if they’d left the poor woman able to even walk.

There was a groan. Dean stopped cold. His heart stopped. No.

A shadow lurched. 

No.

Dean took two steps into the alley. “Oh my god. No.” He ran deeper, crashing to his knees. Sam cringed away from him. 

“Don’t look. Don’t…”

His jeans were around his knees, his shirt hanging off him. His face was bruised and bleeding and swollen, his lip split and he was drooling blood and semen from his mouth. He was holding his stomach.

“Sam…don’t…don’t move.”

All around Sam was blood stained money. He sagged onto one hip. “Okay…okay…Just hold on Sammy. I’ll…I’ll get you to the hospital.”

“No!” Sam grabbed at him frantically. His fingers were bloody, the skin of his palms torn. “I can be okay…I can…” He wouldn’t look at Dean. “Not a whore, Dean.”

“I know Sammy. I know you’re not.” Dean took a deep breath. He needed to get an idea how bad it was. “I’m going to check you over, okay?”

Sam nodded.

Dean felt like he was going to be sick. He turned first to Sam’s face. It looked like he’d been slammed face first into the wall. The nose was broken, and judging from the misshapen swelling under his left eye, his cheek bone might be as well. A few teeth were broken and it looked like he’d bitten his tongue.

Dean reached for the shirt and it just fell off Sam. His ribs were already bruising, purples and blues and greens blossoming from his arm pit down to his hip. “Fuck. Okay, I’m moving behind you.” Dean shifted, and had to drag in air to keep from throwing up. His brother’s ass was open and oozing blood. He reached up to steady him and stopped. “Oh my god.”

“They cut me.” Sam said, the words slurring around his swollen tongue.

Dean nodded, though Sam couldn’t see him. “I see, Sammy.” His back was a bloody mess. The word “whore” carved into his skin. “Okay, let’s get you into your jeans.” He eased them up to cover Sam’s ass. “God, Sam. It’s bad. Okay? I’m going to get us a cab. Do you think you can walk?”

Sam reached for him to be helped up, but he stopped half way up. “Get the money.”

“No.” Dean shook his head and slipped an arm under Sam’s shoulder to support him.

“I earned it. Let them…” He closed his eyes. “They were going to do it…figured it would hurt less…” Sam’s eyes rolled closed and his body went slack against Dean’s. 

“Fuck. Sammy, stay with me.” Dean struggled down the alley to the street. He’d had his own share of rough tricks, but nothing like this. “Fuck.” He spotted a cop and flagged him down.

He could see him on the radio before he even came to a stop. “Ambulance is coming.” Dean nodded and eased Sam down. “Trick go bad?”

“I’m the whore, not him.” Dean said, miffed. “This was rape, a big group of guys, go to high school with him.”

“Did you see it happen?” 

Dean shook his head. “Got here as they were leaving.”

“Can you identify them?”

“Maybe.” But there was no way in hell he was turning them over to the cops. No, he’d fuck each and every one of them himself.

There were sirens. Sam stirred, grabbing for Dean. “Don’t leave me.”

“Not going anywhere.” Dean said, even as the EMT’s piled out of the ambulance and started assessing Sam. His hand went slack and they were hustling him into the van. Dean sat next to him, holding his hand and whispering that he wasn’t ever going to leave him.

 

John turned off the food on the stove when Dean and Sam hadn’t come back in almost an hour. He was just thinking he should get in the car and look for them when there was a knock on the door.

He opened it, but no one was there. Then he looked down and found a brown paper bag, the top folded down. He looked around for whoever had dropped it, but there was no one around. After a few minutes, he leaned over and picked it up, bringing it inside with him and opening the bag. 

Inside was a note and a video tape. He unfolded the paper. “Sweetcheeks…you’ve got a future. Come see me when you’re ready for the next step.”

John looked for a signature or identifying mark but there was nothing. Just the video. He shook his head and put it down, figuring it was dropped at the wrong apartment. 

He reached into his pocket for keys to the Impala, then stopped. Something was wrong. Both boys were acting strangely. John dropped the keys back into his pocket and reached for the video.

 

“Sam, don’t you leave me. You hear me?” Dean said fervently in Sam’s ear as they reached the hospital. Sam was in and out of consciousness. The EMTs were talking about internal bleeding and stuff Dean wasn’t really following.

He was covered in Sam’s blood, following the gurney into the ER. 

They made him stop at the swinging double doors. “Wait here. Let us help him.”

“He’s my brother.”

The nurse smiled and guided him to some chairs. “Let us help your brother. Someone will be out shortly.”

Dean nodded, though he’d stopped really comprehending anything when Sam’s eyes went cold and dark in the ambulance. “Don’t leave me.” Dean whispered, sinking into the chair and holding his breath.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when someone was touching his shoulder. “Are you Dean?”

He nodded and stood. “Yeah, Dean Winchester. My brother, Sam?”

The doctor nodded, her face showing concern. “He’s stable, for the moment…but I have to tell you…it isn’t good. We’re prepping him for surgery. There’s a lot of internal bleeding. It looks like there is damage to his stomach and kidney, five broken ribs, and there’s concern about his left lung.”

Dean shook his head. “Surgery? I…he’s going to be okay, right?”

“A lot will depend on what the surgeon finds once he gets inside. I’m not going to lie to you Dean. He’s in bad shape.”

“I want to see him.”

She nodded. “You’ve got about five minutes before they take him up to surgery. Follow me.”

He looked so small, so young, there on the bed. He was laying on his back, and all Dean could think was that his back was bad too. Sam’s eyes were half open. IVs ran into his arm and his hands were bandaged.

“Sam?” 

He blinked and Dean moved to stand beside him. “Hey, they’re taking good care of you okay? I’m just…I’m going to be right here.”

“Don’t tell Dad. Don’t…he can’t know Dean.”

“Shh…you worry about you. I’ll worry about Dad.”

“It’s time, let’s get you upstairs.” Two orderlies and the lady doctor came in and started moving Sam’s gurney.

“I’ll be right here.” Dean called after him, watching until the elevator doors closed.

Dad. Fuck. Dean was going to have to call him.

He headed back to the lobby and the pay phones. He pulled out some change and dialed the number, half expecting it to dump to voice mail.

“Where the fuck are you?” There was a warning in his voice. Dean almost couldn’t speak.

“Hospital.” He cleared his throat, pushed back the fear and the tears. This was his fault. All of it. He’d worked Mosely’s corner without permission. He’d lost money betting in Mosely’s club. He’d let Sam pay back his debt. “I’m…Sam…it’s bad Dad. Really bad.”

“I’m on my way.”

Dean sank into the chair, dropped his head in his hands. They should have run. Stolen a car and run. 

He was still sitting there when he felt his father…felt the anger, the disgust. It rolled off of him in waves as he stalked into the ER. Dean stood.

He knew. Somehow he knew. 

John’s fist slammed into Dean’s face and dropped him back to the seat. John kept walking up the desk. “John Winchester. My son Sam was brought in?”

Dean didn’t hear the response, didn’t move, not until his father’s hand was grabbing him by the back on the neck and dragging him out the door and throwing him to the pavement.

“You get out of my sight before I kill you.” John spit at him. “Pack your shit and get out. You’re not welcome under my roof.”

“I’m the one paying for it.” Dean said before he could think better of it. He covered his face and rolled away from his father, getting to his feet and keeping his distance. “I can’t leave Sam.”

His father’s hands were tight fists. “You’re not getting near him. Not again.”

Dean shook his head. “I promised him I wouldn’t leave.”

“You fucking stood there and let that man…you watched your brother…” He couldn’t seem to get the words out. 

“You’re right.” Dean nodded. “I did. And I hate myself. I don’t…I just…” He sniffed. “I hate myself, and I’ll…I’ll go…but not until I know he’s okay. I have to…I have to tell him something.”

“What about that fuck you gave him to?”

“Mosley. Aims. I…I’m going to kill him.” Dean said without looking up.

 

The room was icy cold with hatred. Dean could feel his father’s eyes. Sam was going to be okay, though it would be a while before he was up and around. Dean sat beside him, trying to find a way to tell his brother he had to leave.

Sam’s one eye that wasn’t heavily bandaged was filled with tears before Dean even said a word. 

“So, Dad…he…he had this job lined up. It’s important, you know?”

“Don’t…” Sam’s voice was small.

“He’s going to stay with you until you’re stronger, then you’re going to go to Bobby’s to rest. I…I’ll catch up with you there.”

“Dean, please. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.” His hand clutched at Dean’s.

Dean shook his head, not even trying to hide his tears. “It’s not forever Sammy, just for now. You’re safe. I’m going to take care of everything…and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Dean…” Dean closed his eyes and stood.

If he stayed any longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. As he got close to his father, John shifted, his voice low and deep. “You see to it you do take care of everything. You hear?”

Dean nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Dean…Don’t you leave me…” Sam called. 

Dean stopped in the door, but one look from his father and he didn’t even look back.


	5. Don't Ask Me to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John disappeared and Dean is left to take care of Sam. When Dean gets himself into big trouble with a bad guy, it's up to Sam to bail him out, but the consequences that follow spiral out of control when John shows back up.

He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but between the broken ribs and the way his back was carved up, comfortable wasn’t happening. At least his father had finally left the room. 

The doctors said they would release him in the next day or so, but he’d be restricted to bed rest for at least another week. 

Dean was gone. By now Sam knew that their father had kicked him out…that their father had found out about Mosley and told Dean to leave. Sam had tried once, just the once, to explain it to John, but the look on his face…the disgust and fury, it had stopped Sam cold.

They hadn’t really talked since. Seven days and they hadn’t said more than a handful of words. It was right after the police came. Sam had been fuming over Dean leaving, angry because it was his fault and no one would listen.

 

Sam held up his hand to stop the officer mid sentence. “It wasn’t rape.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The report says—“

“It’s wrong.” Sam shook his head and tried to sit up more. The stitches in his back stung and stretched and his side ached. “It…” He sighed and wouldn’t look at his father in the corner of the room. “They paid for it, okay?”

The female officer looked at her partner, then back at Sam. “Are you sure?”

Sam nodded miserably. “Yes. I’m sure. I was there.” He gave up trying to sit up to look more dignified and sighed. “They didn’t pay enough for the privilege of nearly killing me though.”

“Sam.” His father’s voice was low, a rumbling force of barely constrained anger.

“Dad, stay out of it. You’re usually pretty good at that.” 

“How many of them were there?”

Sam looked at the male officer and shook his head. “Honestly? I’m not sure. When I first went into the alley there were five…but it…felt like more. I couldn’t really see after my face got smashed into the wall.”

“Mr. Winchester, did you know the men who attacked you?”

Sam could feel his father’s eyes. “No…No I didn’t know them.”

He could tell they didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. Not at all. He had plans to deal with them himself. One on one, they weren’t so tough.

His father had walked them out. When he came back in, his face was hard and set. “You should have told them the truth.”

Sam wouldn’t look at him. “I told them what they needed to know.”

“Why did you tell them it wasn’t…”

Sam turned then, fixed his one unbandaged eye on his father. “Rape? You can say the word, Dad.”

“Why?” he insisted and Sam sighed. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sam, you’re not some….cheap goddamn whore.”

“No, Dad. I’m not cheap.” He bit off the bitterness. He’d averaged $500 a fuck or so with Mosely. Hadn’t gotten to count the money the boys threw at him as they finished with him. Dean had left it laying in the alley.

“What you brother did—“

Sam cut him off with a glare. “Dean didn’t do anything. Nothing I didn’t ask him to do. I was the one who went to Mosely, Dad. Me. I was the one who negotiated. I did it to keep Dean alive. Mosely would have killed him.”

John shook his head. “No. No. I saw.”

Sam froze and turned to look at him. “You what?”

The misery and fury dripped from his father’s eyes and he turned away. “Get some rest. I’ll be back.”

 

He hadn’t come back, not for hours. Sam had no idea where he went, and quite frankly didn’t care. He was stuck in his bed and alone. Dean gone. His father disgusted.

Everyday he came and sat in Sam’s room until neither of them could stand it anymore. Then he’d leave for a while. Sometimes he came back. Sometimes he didn’t.

It was late afternoon, Sam could tell because Nurse Mandy was on the floor. She always smiled when she brought him his meds and took his vitals. She didn’t say much, but her touch was soothing. 

A shadow filled the door and Sam didn’t look. So it was one of the days that the guilt drove the old man back.

“I heard you were in a bad way.”

Sam’s whole body stiffened. He swallowed down the panic and looked up. “Get out.” He said it through clenched teeth but Mosely only chuckled, holding up a clear trash bag.

“You and your brother left this in hooker alley. Figured I’d hold on to it for you, so no one stole it.”

He’d seen the whole thing. Probably orchestrated it. “I said get out.” Sam managed to sit up, hiding his bandaged back and pulling the thin hospital blanket closer around him.

“Now, now Sweetcheeks, no need to get testy. I’m here to help.”

“I think I’ve had just about enough of your help.” Sam said. He was shaking, but he didn’t want Mosely to see it.

Mosely smiled. “Come on now, you and I both now that if you’re gonna whore on these streets you need some protection, so you don’t get jacked up like this.” He put the trash bag on the bed. “I’m offering you my protection.”

Sam wanted to scream at him that he wasn’t a whore, that he didn’t want it, that it was all Mosely’s fault…but there was a part of him that knew that wasn’t true. Not completely.

He’d gone to Mosely freely. He’d let Mosely fuck him for money…or in place of money, which was the same thing, really. 

“Don’t you worry about the hospital. I’ve taken care of the bill. You just get well, and when you’re on your feet again, you come see me. We’ll come to an…agreement.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t want your money. I—“

There was the sound of a gun cocking and Mosely raised his hands. 

“I should kill you.” His father’s voice was cold, hard. Sam swallowed and almost wished he would. Just kill him.

“I was just offering the boy some help.” Mosely said.

“I believe he told you he didn’t need your help.” John stepped closer, forcing Mosely to turn. “Now get your ass out of my son’s room or so help me God, you won’t be walking out of this hospital.”

“Son?” Mosely turned to look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “I didn’t know you had a Daddy, Sweetcheeks.”

Sam’s face was flaming red. “Lot of things you don’t know Mosely.”

“All right, I can see that I don’t belong up in this family reunion. I meant what I said though, Sammy. You come see me. Or I’ll be seeing you.”

Mosely left the room and Sam sagged against the pillows, not looking up at his father.

“What’s this?” John asked, poking the trash bag with the end of the gun. 

Sam shook his head. “My paycheck.”

John opened it and cussed. “Holy fuck Sam.”

“Just…leave it.” Sam said. “We’re going to need it to pay the hospital with.” Because Sam had no doubt that Mosely would expect payment…and the more they managed to pay themselves, the less Sam would have to worry about Mosely.

“—tomorrow.” 

Sam realized his father had been talking to him and looked up. “What?”

“They’re sending you home tomorrow.” John rubbed a hand over his face, then tucked the gun back into his pants. “You can’t travel for a few days though. So we’ll hole up here until you’re ready. Head out to Bobby’s.”

“I need to finish school.” Sam said, though the argument was more for the sake of arguing than out of any real conviction. “I’ve only got a few more weeks.”

“I got us into a new place. Figure the old one probably isn’t safe.” John seemed to be ignoring Sam all together. 

“Never was safe.” Sam muttered, crossing his arms. He sighed. “Dad, did you hear me. School.”

John made a face and shook his head. “You’re old enough now Sam, no one’s going to chase us down if you miss a few weeks of school.”

“Do you even realize I’m graduating?” Sam asked, anger flushing through him. “Do you even care?”

His father looked stricken, hurt. “Of course I care.”

“Right, that’s why you were gone for nearly a year.” Sam huffed and shook his head. “I’m tired.” He laid down on his good side and closed his eyes, hoping his father took the hint. After a few minutes, he heard John leave. It was just easier when he wasn’t there.

 

John knew that his boy was angry, and he had every right it. Maybe he hadn’t been around. Maybe he shared some of the blame. But Sam didn’t know what had kept him away. Sam wouldn’t ever know.

He left the hospital and climbed into the Impala, headed for the motel where he’d moved their things. He couldn’t be in that apartment. And Dean was right. He had paid for the place. John had learned how he’d paid for it when the landlord came for the next month’s rent.

Dean hadn’t left town. John knew it. He could sense him. Dean was hunting.

He’d hit one of the boys involved in Sam’s beating and rape. Rape. Because there was no doubt in John’s mind that’s what it all was. Right from the first time with Mosely. The boy had been found naked, drugged, a condom filled with his own come shoved up his ass.

John sank wearily onto the bed. He should seek out his older son, help with the clean up. He just wasn’t sure he could look Dean in the face, not knowing what he’d become, what he’d made Sam. 

He massaged down the bad leg, the one that would probably never be whole again and sighed. There were still things he could protect them from. Even if it meant that they hated him.

 

There were voices coming from Sam’s room when he arrived, and John listened for a minute, half hoping it was Mosely again so he could kick the bastard’s ass into the parking lot.

Sam’s laugh was strained, but not forced. John sipped at his coffee as he entered the room. Sam looked at him, a grimace on his face. Beside the bed a man about John’s age was standing, his hand on a pile of books he’d set on the bed next to Sam.

“You must be Mr. Winchester,” the man said, holding out his hand. 

John took it slowly. “John.”

The man smiled.

“Dad, this is Mr. Glenn, my history teacher. He brought me my homework and stuff. So I can get caught up.”

John looked at Sam, then at Mr. Glenn. “Mighty nice of you…but Sam’s not coming back.”

“Yes, I am.” Sam said quietly.

“Those boys who did this go to that school Sam. You are not going back there.”

“Sam’s very well liked at school. The boys who did this are being dealt with.”

Sam frowned at the teacher then looked back at John. “I’m going back to school.”

“Well talk about this later.” John ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll see about getting you out of here.”

He left the room, but the teacher followed. “Mr. Winchester…if I could have a word.”

John stopped and stared at him. 

“I realize how you must be feeling.” He shook his head. “Actually, no I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. I know that I feel sick about this. I really shouldn’t have let Sam go alone after the trouble.” He sighed.

“Did you want something?”

“Sam to finish school. He’s very close and he has the best grades in school. Don’t throw his future away.”

“His future is with his family, Mr. Glenn. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Has he told you about Stanford?”

John stopped in his walking away. Stopped and turned. “Stanford?”

Glenn nodded. “He got accepted at Stanford with a full scholarship. That’s the kind of thing that changes lives. It could change his life.”

Stanford. College. They had never discussed college. 

John took two steps back. “Sam applied to colleges?”

Glenn swallowed and nodded. “Got into a number of them, I’ll bet. It was Stanford he brought to me though. Not many get a chance like that.”

No, he didn’t suppose they did. 

“Thank you for telling me.” John walked away, headed for the administration office. More than ever he wanted to get Sam out of that hospital.

 

Sam let his father support him into the motel room, because the effort of getting out of the car and anywhere near the door had wiped him out, made his head pound and his lungs ache.

They inched into the room and John lowered Sam to the bed. 

“You want anything?” John asked as he went to the dresser for a bottle of water, bringing it and Sam’s pain pills back to the nightstand.

Sam held up his hand and shook his head. “Just…my books and some quiet.”

His father was too much. Too overwhelming. He hadn’t left Sam alone since Mr. Glenn left. He kept talking, about nothing, about everything but what was important and Sam felt stifled. 

“I’m going to go out and get some food.” John swung the keys around in his hand. “You going to be okay alone?”

“I’m not a baby, Dad.” He wanted to add that John sending Dean away was the reason he would be alone, but he didn’t. “I’m fine.”

“Won’t be an hour.”

“Take your time.” 

His father dropped his book bag on the bed before he left. Sam sighed in relief when the door closed and reached for the book bag. He fished out his phone. He’d already left Dean a half dozen messages…but Dean wouldn’t know where to find him. He dialed the number and wasn’t surprised when it dumped straight to voice mail. 

“Hey Dean. Dad’s moved us to the Island Inn Motel on 8th and Grand. Room 18. Um…I’m good. Stitches came out this morning. Can’t go back to school until next week. Okay…call me.”

He wouldn’t. Sam knew that. Dad had ordered him away. Dean wouldn’t cross him. Not when he was angry like that. Like nothing Sam had ever seen.

Sam emptied the books out onto the bed, sorting through them until his hand fell on the envelope. It was thick and creamy, not like the usual envelopes. It was his ticket out. His chance to escape the life he was stuck in. 

Stanford. 

All he had to do now was graduate. Graduate and get to California.

 

Dean looked down at his phone and sighed. Sam. Again. He picked up the binoculars and checked. Sam was getting dressed, pulling on the suit coat. 

He had stayed away, mostly. Kept an eye on them from a distance. Dealt with everyone but Mosely. Kept his father from getting killed by Mosely’s men once or twice. Man had no sense of subtlety. 

Dean wasn’t sure how Sam had talked their father into staying long enough to finish the year. Probably guilt. Guilt he should be feeling. 

Dean certainly felt it. This had gone from bad to worse. But today would make up for a lot. Sam was graduating, and they were leaving town.

He looked down at his graduation gift for his brother. Talk about not subtle. Mosely would pay. He had it timed beautifully. The bomb would detonate while Sam was on stage getting his diploma. 

Bye bye Mosely.

He checked through the binoculars again. Sam had his cap and gown and was headed for the door, his father with him. Time to get this show on the road.

 

Sam stood with his class, on the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd for his brother. Once he thought he saw him, near the back of the auditorium, but he disappeared.

They were packed, ready to leave town. Their whole lives were in the Impala, pointed east. His father had a line on some haunting or something.

Sam held his diploma and smiled for the cameras. He’d never felt so phony in his life. Then they were finally filing off the stage and out into the lawn. He tried to hold down the panic as he was pushed and pulled and turned, then Dean was just there. Right there, pulling Sam in to hug.

“So proud of you.”

There was an envelope in his hands, Dean’s kiss on his cheek and then Sam was alone again. Alone and breathless, looking at the envelope in his hand. 

“Sam?” 

He turned away from his father’s voice, opening the envelope. There was a bus ticket to Palo Alto, California, some cash and a note. “Don’t let him stop you. Dean.”

Sam wiped at tears and shoved the whole thing into his pants, turning to his father.

“You ready?”

Sam nodded, following his father to the car, waving to friends as he went. When they got to the car, Sam stopped. It was now or never. He opened the back door and pulled out his bag.

“Sam?”

He didn’t look at his father. “Don’t ask me to stay with you.” Sam said. “I’m going to Stanford.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sam shook his head. “Take care of yourself.” He shouldered his bag and started walking away. The bus depot was only a few miles away.

“Samuel Winchester!” He didn’t turn around. He didn’t stop walking.

His father didn’t come after him.

A mile or so later, Sam was alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months have passed and Sam has been on his own in California, but he's about to discover that his past isn't something he can hide from.

Sam ‘s steps slowed as he sensed someone behind him, someone pacing him as he made his way toward his dorm room. It was late and his breath plumed on the cool night air. 

He stepped lightly, quickly, sliding into the alley between the buildings, tensing.

A shadow passed and Sam relaxed slowly. He’d been on edge for weeks. Neither Dean nor his father were answering his phone calls, and Dean’s number had been disconnected in the last few weeks. 

Sam was alone, and he felt it with every fiber of his being. 

Every shadow was Mosley come to collect. Or some john he’d tricked his first month in Palo Alto…someone who wanted more.

And they all wanted more.

Dean’s money ran out fast, and until Sam could get into housing at the beginning of the year, he’d been strapped. He worked at a bar until they found out his ID was fake. Then he’d tried other things…until the night a guy propositioned him at a bar in San Francisco.

It had been easier than he’d imagined. Just slipped into the alley and went to his knees. And that night he’d paid for his hotel and ate a steak for dinner.

When the shadow didn’t come back, Sam chided himself and headed for his dorm. He had homework to finish.

It wasn’t until he reached his dorm that he felt it again. Familiar. Out of place. He stiffened, shouldering his backpack as he slowed. He swallowed hard and rounded the corner in the corridor.

There, against the wall by his door.

He stopped. Just stopped. Breathing, moving…just stopped.

Slowly Dean turned to him and smiled, though there was no happiness in his face. “Sammy.”

“Dean?” Sam took a few steps and stopped again. “Dean.”

Dean nodded, then was pushing off the wall and Sam was wrapping his arms around his brother, holding on like there was nothing in the world more important at that very moment. 

After a long time, Dean patted his back and Sam reluctantly let him go. Dean’s face was pale and there was a scar Sam didn’t remember down his left jaw line, under the scruffy facial hair.

“Look at you. College boy.” Dean’s hand brushed over his shoulder, then fell to his side when Sam’s eyes touched the scars on it.

“Dean.” Sam breathed the name, reaching for the hand, but Dean just pulled it away.

“Long time.”

Sam nodded slowly. It had been June when Dean had hugged him and thrust a bus ticket into his hands. June. It was nearly Thanksgiving.

Sam’s eyes swept over his brother. He was thin, with dark circles under his eyes and he looked worn. Sam opened the door to his room. “Um…my roommate is…probably at his girlfriend’s. I don’t have much here…but we could go get something…if you’re hungry.”

Dean shook his head as he came into the room, his eyes skimming over the walls and small beds before coming back to Sam’s eyes. “You okay, Sam?”

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam sat on his bed, staring at the floor. He was coping at any rate. Mosley and his ordeal was like a part of another life. Except for the way the idea of the man still being alive haunted him. Except for the nightmares. “You?”

Dean shrugged and moved to the window, watching the quad below. “I’m alive. More than I can say for some.”

Sam sucked in air and stood, turning to Dean. “Mosley?”

Dean’s face fell forward and the air left Sam in a rush. “I…tried Sam. I really did.”

Sam licked his lips and moved away, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the chill suddenly in the air. “Not your fault,” he mumbled.

“I hurt him.” Dean said, not looking up. “Burns.” He rubbed his right hand down his thigh. “Took out two of his guys.”

Sam nodded, but couldn’t speak. It would be different if he knew Mosley was dead. Everything would be different.

“I paid what I could. But it wasn’t enough.”

Sam shivered and tried to ignore the creeping feeling of filth that was crawling over his skin. 

“Do you hear me Sam?”

Dean was turning him, pulling on his arms. “Do you understand?”

Sam nodded dully. “Yeah, Mosley’s coming for me.”

Dean pulled him into a hug. “I’m going to end this.”

Sam didn’t have the strength to argue. He just sagged against Dean and let him hold him.

 

Dean woke to the sounds of someone in the room. His eyes slitted open. In the half light of not-yet-morning, a short kid with spiky blond hair was tiptoeing in, making for the empty bed. Dean’s hand tightened on the gun under the pillow.

Sam’s body was tight against his on the small bed. The kid’s eyes got wide when he was close enough to see. When he realized Dean was awake he sat down hard on his bed.

Sam shifted, pushing Dean harder against the wall. Dean made a show of laying his head back down and closing his eyes. Dean listened to the kid getting settled in to sleep. Dean hadn’t really slept in months. 

Not since the whole thing started with Mosley. Not since he’d let Sam whore himself out just to spare Dean some pain. Then there’d been the rape and his father finding out what Dean had done.

Dean had stalked the night, paying out justice one by one on those responsible. Until there was only Mosley. It should have worked. The blast was specific. Instead of killing Mosley though it had burned him, his face and part of his chest. 

And then Dean wasn’t just running from the cops for the assaults, but he was running from Mosley too. 

When Mosley caught him, Dean had expected to die. Painfully. 

His hand clenched reflexively around the gun. The bastard had a sense of poetic justice. He could still remember the smell of the blowtorch…of his skin burning.

If not for his father, he’d have died there in that warehouse where Mosley had taken Sam’s final payment.

Dean inhaled deeply and swallowed.

If not for his father, Dean would be sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial for murder and arson and assault.

The least he could do now was protect Sam.

 

He should have felt safer with Dean beside him, but somehow it only made everything seem worse. Sam ducked in out of the rain, pulling his wet hoodie closer and tugging on the zipper.

Dean was somewhere behind him. It was like having a stalker. 

It had been a week. Dean insisted on staying close, but not too close. Sam had finally gotten a good enough look at the hand to know that whatever had happened it had been bad. They didn’t really talk, but then, they never really did. 

Dean had scared his roommate into staying away and Dean was sleeping in his bed now. Sam woke up every few hours to make sure he was still there. Then last night Sam had woke from one of the nightmares and Dean had been wrapped around him from behind, holding him while he whimpered and shook.

When it was over, Dean didn’t leave, just held Sam all the tighter. Until Sam had lurched from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He couldn’t let Dean know what his touch had done. Dean really would hate him then.

He’d retched into the toilet and tried to calm the raging arousal pounding through him. When he finally crawled back to bed, Dean had gone back to the other bed and was pretending to be asleep.

He ducked into his poly-sci class, knowing Dean would hover near the door and wait for him. Sam’s head wasn’t on the lecture or the homework. He could only think of Dean, and how his touch made Sam’s body thrum.

“Mr. Winchester, a word?” He looked up at his professor as he was stuffing his notebook back into his bag.

“Professor?” Sam stopped near his desk expectantly.

Professor Elton was known to be a tough teacher, but Sam had found him to be fair in grading as long as Sam did the work. He was an older man, maybe mid-50’s with steel gray hair and a stern demeanor.

He had also been responsible for getting Sam an early admission to the dormitory when Sam had appealed to the board based on hardship. Elton had championed his case based on Sam’s grades and background.

“I’d like to see you in my office.”

“Right now? My…my brother’s waiting.”

Dean would freak if Sam didn’t come out right away. 

“This should only take a minute.” 

Sam could tell by the tone that there was no escape so he nodded and shouldered his backpack, following the professor into the smaller room.

“As you know, I have taken a personal interest in you, Mr. Winchester. I was very impressed with the way you overcame the hardships of your childhood and worked hard at your education.” Elton moved to sit behind his desk. “You seemed destined for Stanford.”

“Thank you sir. I have worked hard.”

Elton frowned at him a little. “Imagine my surprise then, to discover that you were not entirely forthcoming.”

Sam sat forward. “I—what?”

“I received an email yesterday from a concerned individual that makes me question your moral standing in this university.”

Sam wasn’t following what he was saying and shook his head. “My what?”

Elton put his hands on the keyboard of his computer, then turned the monitor for Sam to see. Sam started and sat back, physically pulling away from the image. 

This had been what his father had seen.

Sam in that damn cheerleader outfit, getting fucked up the ass by Mosley. “Turn it off.”

“There’s more.” 

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sure there is. I don’t need to see it.”

Elton complied, turning the monitor away and off, before folding his hands on his desk. “I don’t need to tell you that this is a serious issue. It could jeopardize your scholarship.”

Sam was shaking. He bit down on his tongue to keep the tears at bay. He couldn’t lose the scholarship, it was the only thing between him and oblivion. “It isn’t what you think. It…” But what could he say? It was exactly what it looked like. 

Elton raised an eyebrow, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. He scribbled on the paper and handed it across to Sam. “This doesn’t have to ever go past the two of us. Come to this address tomorrow night, alone. We’ll discuss what we’re going to do about this.”

Sam stared at the paper, then up at Elton. He shook his head. “I can’t—I don’t…”

“Don’t make it harder than it needs to be, Son. And don’t forget your paper is due on Friday.”

Elton turned then to his stack of grading and Sam stood, red faced. He hesitated before taking the paper and shoving it into his pocket. His whole body burned with shame as he burst out the door, just as Dean was pulling it open.

“Sam? What took so—“ Dean stopped as Sam stormed past him, head down and making for his dorm room. Dean followed, calling after him, catching him as Sam threw his door open. “What the hell?”

Sam pulled his arm free and went for the bottle of Jack he’d kept hidden under his bed. He took a long swig, wiping his mouth on his arm as he pulled the bottle away.

Dean grabbed the bottle from him and turned Sam to look at him. “What happened?” 

Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Just…bad day.”

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“Don’t start with me.” Sam peeled off his wet clothes. He shivered when he reached bare skin and Dean was cussing at him. “Dean…just…drop it. It’s school shit. I’ll deal with it.”

He turned to find Dean coming at him from across the room, crowding him against the wall. The cold was forgotten as his body flushed with heat. His cock filled hard in his wet jeans and Dean’s hand brushed it, making Sam bite off the moan that wanted to escape.

Dean’s eyes filled with question, with concern. “Sam?” His voice was breathy across Sam’s wet skin.

“Just…let me go.” Sam managed, turning his face away.

Dean’s hand came back to his cock, cupping it, warmth seeping through the cloying wetness. “Easy, Sam. It’s okay.”

“No. No.” Sam was starting to hyperventilate. It wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay. Not when he wanted to do things to Dean…with Dean…things he should never think about.

But then there was warmth ghosting over his mouth, into him and on some level he vaguely recognized that Dean was kissing him. Kissing.

“No.” Sam pulled back, but the wall held him. Then he pushed, catching Dean off guard and knocking him to the bed. 

“Sam. Sam!” He stormed away, only half dressed, but he couldn’t be there in that room with Dean. Not like that.

 

It was the day before Thanksgiving and the campus was like a ghost town. Everyone who had somewhere else to be was gone. Sam knew Dean was still tailing him, though he hadn’t seen him since leaving the dorm.

He approached the address Elton had given him, his stomach twisting. He had a pretty good idea what this would be. But Sam knew he could do it, because he didn’t have a choice. 

He knocked and waited. The door opened and Elton let him in, showing him into an office and closing the doors. “I am pleased to see you’re going to be sensible about this, Sam.”

“Like you gave me a choice?” 

“We all have choices, Sam.”

“Okay, what are mine?”

Elton eyed him up and down, as if determining whether he could trust Sam. “I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”

Sam shook his head. “I need something more specific. We are negotiating, aren’t we? The product is my future. What is the currency?”

“You, here in this office, once a week “

“Are we talking just blow jobs or actual fucking?” Sam asked, his voice cold.

“Both, as the mood strikes.”

Sam moved closer to him, reaching for his groin. “And what promises do I get that no one else knows? No one sees the video. No one knows about this?”

“You have my word. I won’t show anyone.”

Of course Sam knew that didn’t mean anything. He’d found the video online himself. Watched himself getting fucked by Mosley and his men over and over on that bed in that warehouse. Heard himself scream and beg.

Elton couldn’t promise anything of the sort. His eyes flitted to the window. Dean was there, Sam could feel him. “I want to know who sent it to you.”

Elton’s hand was on Sam now, rounding over his ass. “I fuck you first.”

Sam nodded slowly and popped the button on his jeans, dropping them and his underwear together before bending forward. He’d prepped, anticipating this and when Elton stuck a finger inside him, Sam didn’t even flinch. “I do have homework to get to, so if you don’t mind getting on with it?” He pulled a condom from his back pocket and held it up.

Elton chuckled, taking the condom and ripping it open…then Sam heard his zipper, felt the blunt head of his cock against the skin of Sam’s ass. Sam’s eyes went back to the window. There was a shadow, vague movement. Dean.

Just the thought of him had Sam rising to the occasion as Elton fucked into him. Sam closed his eyes and bent forward, trying to concentrate on just taking it, just do it and be done. 

Elton thrust harder, shoving Sam into the desk. He shivered as he came, pulling out with a pop. Sam pulled up his pants and straightened himself out before turning to Elton. 

“The name on the email was Mosley…something.” Elton said, dropping into his chair.

Sam had already figured as much. Mosley was watching him. Knew exactly which professor to go to. “I guess I’ll see you in class then.” 

Sam stopped at the door when Elton called his name. 

“Next time, wear these.” He tossed a pair of pink satin panties at Sam. 

Sam flushed, but didn’t say anything, just bustled out of the house, grabbing in the dark for Dean. “Tell me you got it all.” Sam said as he shoved Dean out of sight and into the bushes that lined the path.

“I got it Sammy. I got all of it.” 

Sam swallowed, but his arousal was stronger now, here in the dark with Dean pushed up against him. Dean maneuvered him against a tree, kissed him and this time Sam didn’t fight.

Dean’s hand was inside his jeans, stroking his cock while his mouth moved against Sam’s, his tongue in Sam’s mouth, over his lips. “Sam…Sam…” 

He couldn’t breathe…He pushed at Dean’s shoulder, trying gamely to break free, but giving up when his brother's thumb brushed over the tip of his cock and Sam shuddered.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Dean whispered into Sam’s mouth. “Look at me.”

Sam wasn’t sure what he saw in his brother’s face, but it didn’t matter, he was coming, spilling into Dean’s hand and groaning his brother’s name like he was a lover.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a plan, but when Mosley arrives on the scene, can he hold it together long enough to make it happen?

They didn’t talk. Not about the way Dean’s hand wrapped around Sam’s cock and stroked him. Not about the way Sam kissed Dean all frantic and desperate and held him to keep him from pulling away. Not about the way Dean’s lips opened for Sam’s tongue. Not about the way Sam whimpered Dean’s name as he came, spilling hot and sticky over Dean’s hand.

They didn’t touch. They walked at arm’s length from one another, from the trees to the room. They took turns cleaning up and when Sam emerged from the bathroom, Dean was pretending to sleep on the bed. 

Sam went to the window, staring out on the quiet campus. Everything was different now. His fingers played with the cassette tape. Spy gadgets and tape recorders. Not their usual equipment, but Dean had come through.

For the first time since the whole thing started Sam thought maybe they had a chance. He’d played the whore the first time to save his brother. Maybe this time he could save himself.

A shadow moved three floors down, emerging from behind a tree. Sam stared, hatred boiling in his blood. Mosley Aims looked up at him, right at him and smiled. 

Sam reached for the gun under his pillow, but Mosley was gone by the time he’d lifted it. He was shaking as he turned for the door. He opened it, but stopped dead. Sitting on the floor outside the door was a package.

It was labeled, “Sweetcheeks” in Mosley’s handwriting.

Sam glanced up and down the hall, then bent down to pick it up. There was a DVD sitting on top of a pile of clothes. Sam didn’t need to look to recognize them. The white lace panties on the top were stiff and crusty with old dried come.

He crossed to his desk and his laptop, double checking to make sure his earphones were plugged in. A quick glance at Dean told him he was asleep, not pretending anymore.

Sam put the disc in. He expected Mosley but still jumped when his scarred face filled the screen.

“Hey there, Sweetcheeks. Did you miss me?” The picture zoomed back. “A man like me might be offended the way you skipped town on your debt. But I’m willing to offer you an opportunity to make this right.” The screen shifted and filled with darkness. A bright light came on and Sam could see Dean, cuffed to a chair, bleeding from the mouth. 

His stomach twisted when he saw the blowtorch, and he watched Dean’s face contort as he fought the panic and then Dean was screaming in agony as the flames burned through his shirt.

The picture switched back to Mosley. “Your brother never learned to pay his debts. You should both take a lesson from your old man.”

His father’s face filled the screen. The camera pulled back and Sam could see that he was in a police car. “They say confession is good for the soul Sweetcheeks.”

Mosley’s smile was sickening. “Dress up for me. Meet me at the address on the card inside the package. Saturday night, ten pm. Come alone, or I’ll take your brother apart. He still owes me.” Mosley dragged a finger over the scars then puckered up, kissing the air.

Sam pulled the DVD out, shoved it in the bag and shoved the whole mess under his bed before he crawled into it and laid there, staring at his brother until he finally dozed off.

 

It wasn’t easy to ditch his brother to meet Mosley. Sam finally told him he had to work on a paper and headed to the library. Of course, the library was empty. The whole campus was dark and quiet for the holiday weekend. 

Dean had waited around for a while, but when Sam exploded over his constant interruptions, he’d left for a local bar.

When Sam was sure he was gone, he packed up his things and headed to the address on Mosley’s note.

It wasn’t far from campus, a high-class hotel. He spotted one of Mosley’s boys in the lobby and crossed to him. He didn’t have to say a word. The man pushed Sam up against the wall and patted him down, taking the knife from his ankle sheath and the gun from his jacket pocket. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The man just shoved Sam into the elevator, then up to the door of a suite. The door was flanked by two more of Mosley’s guys. Obviously killing Mosley wouldn’t be any easier now than it had been then.

Mosley was flanked on either side by two beautiful women in next to nothing, but he shoved them away when Sam came into the room. He swept his eyes over Sam’s clothes, jeans and a hoodie over a button down over a t-shirt. He didn’t look happy.

“I told you to dress for me, you whore.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yes, you did. But I don’t work for you Mosley. I’m not your whore.”

Mosley lurched up off the couch. Sam held his ground as Mosley moved toward him. “You saying you won’t pay your debt?”

“I don’t owe you anything. We didn’t negotiate, I told you I didn’t want your money. You paid the bills anyway.”

“You owe me $13, 298.” Mosley’s fist wrapped in Sam’s shirt. “And you can be damn sure I’m going to collect. I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass until you can’t sit right, and then I’m gonna pimp it out until every cock in fifty miles has been inside it.” 

Sam struggled, pulled away and almost got clear, but one of the other men caught him. The fight was mostly for show. He’d known coming here that Mosley would force him to it if he didn’t perform willingly. It was part of his plan. He could handle this.

Two of Mosley’s men manhandled him over the back of a chair, yanking his jeans down. He’d prepped enough that it shouldn’t hurt too much. Still, he gasped when Mosley entered him, struggling against the hands holding him down. Mosley’s hands were bruising on his hips and he thrust in hard and fast.

When he came, he pulled out, spewing his come over Sam’s ass before the men forced Sam to his knees. Mosley’s hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back. “Do I make myself clear?”

Sam nodded, panting. 

“Good. This ain’t special like before, Sweetcheeks. Your ass is mine. You’re my whore. You’ll do as I say. You’ll take the cock I give you and you’ll do it without a fight, or I swear, my boys will have some fun with your face.”

“Like Dean had with yours?” Sam asked before he could stop himself.

Mosley’s fist slammed into his face and Sam fell to the floor. “Get the fuck out. I’ll call you when I want you.”

Sam pulled his jeans up over his come coated ass and headed for the door. He swept his eyes around the room once more, committing the layout and hiding spaces to memory. He’d be back here and when he was, Mosley was going to wish he’d never started this game.

 

“So, we doing this thing today?” Dean asked as he dragged his toast through egg yolks on his plate.

Sam nodded tightly. “Yeah, I called the Dean. I see him at two.”

Dean nodded. “You think you’ll get to stay?”

Sam didn’t want to think about it. It made his stomach churn. If he lost the scholarship, he’d lose Stanford. If he lost Stanford there was nothing left to go back to.

“Dean?” Sam didn’t look up. “What happened? Dad, I mean. What happened to Dad?”

Dean froze for a moment, then sighed. “Who knows, right? You know him. He probably bailed out of town as soon as you were gone. Off hunting his demons or whatever.”

“Don’t lie to me Dean.” Sam said softly. “Please…I can do this, do anything…just don’t lie to me.”

Dean’s eyes closed and he put his fork down. “He doesn’t want you to know.”

“I don’t care what he wants.” Sam controlled the anger, but only barely.

“He…saved my life, Sammy.” He held up the scarred up hand. “This would have been just the beginning. Dad…he got me out.”

“There’s more.”

Dean nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. The police were closing in. They had enough to at least haul me in. I was careful, but obviously not careful enough. Those boys that hurt you…I nearly killed that Rick guy. The others…well some of them walked funny for a while. Then there was Mosley. The bomb.” Dean shook his head. “I should have run, but I was determined to get Mosley.”

“But Mosley got you.” Sam’s hand snaked over the table and grabbed Dean’s wrist.

Dean pulled the hand away, hiding it under the table. His face scrunched up and he turned to look out the window. “Mosley was going to kill me. Somehow Dad…he didn’t tell me.”

“Dean? What did he do?”

“Dumped me with Bobby. I was pretty out of it. Bobby took me to a hospital. Dad…he…” Dean looked up at him, pain evident in his eyes. “He went to the cops. Confessed to killing Mosley’s guys. Beating up those assholes. He…”

“He went to jail for you?” Sam asked when Dean didn’t seem to be able to say the words. 

Dean nodded slowly. “I was in the hospital…didn’t know…not until I got out. Bobby’s got a lawyer, but Dad…he…he wouldn’t see me, and he’s just…told Bobby he had to make it right.”

Sam sighed explosively. “Right? Because him leaving us is how we got into this, so leaving us again is going to get us out of it?” He pulled a hand through his hair. “That man is such an ass.”

Dean didn’t respond, just went back to eating his breakfast. Sam sat back. Out in the parking lot a dark car was sitting. The window came down and Mosley winked at him. Just as Dean looked up, the car pulled away.

“What happened to Mosley?” Sam asked, picking up his coffee cup.

“What?”

“If you didn’t kill him and Dad didn’t kill him….what happened to him?”

“Bobby said he slipped a sting the cops set for him, skipped town.”

“But you think he’s coming for me?”

Dean pressed his lips together. “He knows where you are, if that’s what you’re asking. He went through my stuff. I had your address in my wallet.”

Sam nodded. “Let him come.”

Dean looked at him funny.

“I’m done being afraid of him Dean.” He drank the last of his coffee. “I’ve got a class. I’ll see you after.”

 

Dean watched Sam walk into the administration building. He wanted to be there with him, but Sam had convinced him that it wouldn’t be helpful, especially not with Dean’s face in the video Mosley had sent Elton.

So he waited. He sat on a bench and watched the building. This idea of Sam’s didn’t sit well, letting the man fuck him just to get him fired. It was worse than Mosley somehow.

His eyes scanned the area. He was nervous. Sam’s questions about their father and Mosley had left him feeling uneasy. Like there was something Sam wasn’t telling him.

Of course, it was probably just the whole thing with Sam…the uneasy awkward of having jacked Sam off…and the whole kissing thing. It wasn’t like he’d planned it. It just sort of seemed right at the time. 

Which Dean realized just showed how fucked up he’d gotten over the whole thing. But Sam….he’d looked so lost, so needy and Dean never could let Sam need anything for long. So Dean had kissed him and now he knew how Sam tasted, knew the way his brother’s body moved, the feeling of his mouth opening, the sounds he made as he came.

And Dean wanted more. 

God help him, Dean wanted more.

It was dirty and wrong and yet…something inside him broke open when he watched Sam bend over for Mosley…when Sam did it for him. And Dean wanted to feel that…the hot inside of Sam, the submission, the sticky sweat. 

To make matters worse, it had been obvious that Sam wanted it on some level too. He’d been hard that day Dean crowded him into the wall. He hadn’t tried to push him away either time when Dean had jacked him off. He’d moaned Dean’s name as he came.

Dean shook his head to clear it. Obviously he was fucked in the head. Sam needed his big brother to protect him, not pervert him anymore than he already had. 

No. Dean planted his feet on the ground and stood.

They would get through this. They’d deal with Elton and Mosley. They’d get clear. And when they did, they’d start over. If Sam got to stay in school, Dean would stay too. He’d get a job, do what he should have done from the start. Take care of Sam.

 

“Professor Elton has been teaching here for over ten years, Sam. Accusations like this are difficult to believe.”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. “Dean Withers, I don’t make accusations lightly.” He knew this was going to be a battle. He calmed his heart and looked his dean in the eye. “Professor Elton came across a video of me, and he’s using it to blackmail me into having sex with him.”

The Dean raised an eyebrow. “A video?”

Sam licked his lips. This was it. “Before I came to Stanford, I…lived a hard life. I did what I had to in order to survive. There was a man who I owed money, but I had no money to give him, so he took what I owed in trade.”

The other eyebrow went up. “Trade?”

“Yes, trade. He used me.” It was obvious he wasn’t going to get away with hiding behind words. “He fucked me, okay? I was his whore. And he apparently video taped it. I didn’t know.” Sam shook his head. “Somehow Professor Elton got this video. He promised not to turn me in for criminal activity if I would let him do the same, once a week.” Slowly Sam lifted the tape player and put it on the desk.

“What’s this?”

“Proof.” Sam reached up and pushed the play button. 

_“We all have choices, Sam.”_

_“Okay, what are mine?”_

_“I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”_

_“I need something more specific. We are negotiating, aren’t we? The product is my future. What is the currency?”_

_“You, here in this office, once a week “_

_“Are we talking just blow jobs or actual fucking?”_

_“Both, as the mood strikes.”_

Sam turned it off and looked up at the Dean. There was disbelief still there on his face, but Elton’s voice left little doubt.

“This was Wednesday night. He followed that by bending me over his desk and fucking my ass.” Sam licked his lips. “Sorry to put it so crudely, but that’s what it was. It’s on the tape too, if you need to hear it.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Dean Withers looked like he might be sick. “You do know that this will bring your scholarship into question.”

Sam nodded. “I’m hoping that my coming forward and admitting my past will help the Board see that I’m working to put it behind me. I’m serious about my education.”

“I can’t make promises, other than to say that I’ll investigate this. May I?” He reached for the tape player and Sam nodded. 

“Go ahead, it’s a copy. I have the original.”

 

Dean looked up as Sam emerged, squinting up into the bright sunlight. “Well?”

He couldn’t read Sam’s face. “I guess I’ll know soon enough.” Sam set out at a brisk pace.

“So what now?” Dean was anxious, itchy. Something was definitely not right. “Sam?”

He grabbed Sam’s arm to stop him. “Would you slow down?”

Sam’s face was pissy. “I can’t. I have things to do.”

“What? More of that paper that you keep talking about, for a class you might get kicked out of?” He regretted it the minute he said it, but he ducked the swing Sam took at him.

“Fuck you.”

“People might stare.” Dean shook his head. “Just…tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, Dean. Nothing’s going on.”

“No?”

“No.” Sam set out again, stalking toward his dorm. Dean followed. He was getting angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Not until Sam threw his bag onto his bed and started ripping off his shirts.

“What are you doing?”

Sam didn’t look at him, even turned his back to him as he peeled off the t-shirt. The scars on his back had faded and Dean almost couldn’t read the word they spelled out. He started to look away, then his eyes caught on something. 

“I’m going to take a shower. I’ve got to meet some people later.” Sam said, but Dean wasn’t listening. He was staring at the thumbprint bruise on Sam’s hip.

“Sam?” Dean put his hand out, connected with the bruise, covered it with his thumb, his hand closing over Sam’s hip, over bruises exactly spaced like fingers.

“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam pulled away, his hand covering the spot where Dean’s hand had just been.

“That’s what I was about to say.” Dean shook his head, trying to make it make sense. There was only one reason to have a bruise like that there. “Tell me you aren’t…tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

Sam’s eyes closed. “Just…stay out of it, Dean.”

“No. No. You tell me…” Dean ran his hand over his face. “Who?”

“No one.”

Fire and ice raced through his veins until Dean’s body erupted in fury, grabbing Sam and pinning him to the wall. “Who?!” Dean screamed in Sam’s face and for a moment neither of them moved.

“Mosley.” Sam said finally, sagging in Dean’s arms. “He…I’ve got it under control.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam.” Dean said softly, letting go of his brother. “There’s no controlling Mosley.”

Sam reached for Dean, pulled him close. “I’m going to end it Dean. The way I should have.”

Dean shook his head. “It was me, Sam. Me. I should have fixed it, should never have let you…Dad was right.”

Sam pulled him still closer. “No, Dean. Dad wasn’t right.” Sam’s lips were on his ear, then sliding over his jaw and chin. “It was always us Dean. You and me.” His kiss was salty and Dean didn’t know when Sam had started crying. “You and me.” 

Sam’s tongue was in his mouth, begging Dean to understand. His hands were pushing at Dean’s jacket and shirts and it took Dean a few seconds to understand why.

“Sam…Sam…” He wanted to say that they couldn’t…that they shouldn’t…but the need in Sam’s hands was so intense Dean couldn’t think beyond sating that need. Sam’s bare skin was under his hands, and they stumbled and tumbled to the bed.

Sam’s cock was hard and in Dean’s hands but Sam was shaking his head, pulling away. “Want…” Sam pulled at Dean’s jeans, unzipping and pulling and falling to the bed, rolling Dean under him. “Please…please…”

His fingers were insistent and Dean fell beneath him, legs open obscene. He couldn’t deny Sam this…he could only fumble at the nightstand for the lube he’d known Sam had and smear it over Sam’s cock before pulling Sam to him. “Come on Sammy…” 

Sam’s eyes were wide as he sank into Dean, his movement jerky and unsure. It hadn’t occurred to Dean that he’d never…and now Dean had taken the last pure thing his brother had. But that thought faded as Sam found his stride and fucked up into Dean.

Dean’s own cock was hard and curved, rubbing pre-come into the skin of his stomach with every thrust. His hands settled on Sam’s hips, covering the bruises Mosley had left, surrendering himself to the heat and rush. His hips lifted off the bed to meet Sam’s movement.

Sam was grunting, groaning half words and he was still crying, tears falling onto Dean’s skin as Sam leaned in to kiss him. “Dean…I’m so sorry Dean…so sorry…”

“I’m not.” Dean whispered back.

Sam stiffened and came, hot, sticky filling Dean. Sam’s body crushed down on him, rubbing just enough against Dean’s cock to make him come too. “I’m not sorry, Sammy.” Dean whispered, holding Sam to him. “Never sorry to give you anything. Anything you need.”

He kissed over Sam’s face, licking up the tears as he rolled them side by side. Sam’s face nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder and he sighed. Dean kissed over his eyes, rubbing his back, encouraging him to sleep.

Dean’s hand caressed over the offending bruises. He was going to kill Mosley. But not before he cut off every single finger he’d ever laid on Sam. Not before he’d removed his manhood, sliced it open and covered it in Tabasco and made the man swallow it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a plan, but so does Dean. They're both on course for a head on collision. The only question is, which one of them will reach terminal velocity first?

Dean found out where Mosley was when he found the bag stuffed under Sam’s bed. He sat and stared at the bag, angry that Sam had hidden it, that Mosley had sent it, that Mosley was there.

He should have ended it. Should never have gotten Sam involved. 

He didn’t bother with the DVD, just pocketed the card with the address and headed out while Sam was in class.

He wasn’t sure what he would do when he got there. He only knew it had to end. 

When he pulled to a stop outside the hotel, he sat, watching the front doors as if expecting Mosley to come out. It wasn’t Mosley that emerged when those doors open however. 

Dean’s eyes tracked Sam as he adjusted his clothes, wiped his face and headed back toward campus. Fury flooded him and he wanted to get out of the car and shake his brother. It had to end. They both agreed. 

And yet, here he was, giving himself to the fuckwad and sauntering back to campus like it was nothing. Dean shook his head and put the car in gear, following Sam.

His brother ducked into the library and Dean sighed. Things had been strained the last few days, since Dean had discovered that Mosley had already made contact with Sam, since Sam told him he’d handle it.

But Sam wasn’t handling anything. He was floundering. Even if he didn’t realize it. Dean parked outside the library and got out of the Impala, pacing around it. 

Dean wasn’t helping. Not when he couldn’t stop what he’d started. Every night they fell further into the darkness, clinging to each other because there was nothing else to hold onto. They touched in ways that should have sickened him, but only made him want more. 

Each day they tried to pretend, didn’t touch, barely spoke and every night they fell together, naked bodies pressing together in need and lust.

That too had to end. He was sure of it. Just as sure as he wouldn’t deny Sam. Anything for Sam. They’d end Mosley. Dean would make sure Sam got to stay in school…even if he had to find the money to do it. He wasn’t above whoring himself to give Sam what he needed. 

And once Dean had done that, it would be over. Sam wouldn’t need him like that anymore. He could go back to normal, to school and girls and Dean could just…he shook his head, not really sure about anything past that. Dean ducked into the car, pulled out the box he kept under his seat. There was almost $2000 in it. Nowhere near what Mosley wanted, but he’d gotten that much in just two days. He didn’t dwell on how. He had skills, it was time he used them to fix this.

 

Mosley had given him less than a half hour’s warning, promising to send his boys to fetch Sam out of class if he didn’t show up, so he’d gone, because he needed Mosley to think he was his, that Sam had resigned himself to playing the whore.

Sitting in the back of the library, in the shadows of books and shelves and hundreds of years of history, he was starting to wonder if he was even playing anymore.

Sam could still feel him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’d managed to clean himself up in the bathroom before he left, but his ass was gaping open and it hurt. Mosley’d had company and Sam hadn’t had time to prepare.

He couldn’t bring himself to go back to Dean, not just yet. Dean would know where he’d been, what he’d done…and with everything between them so fucked up…so wrong and yet, so…hot and needy and desperate, the last thing he wanted was to hurt his brother any more. So he sat here, pretending to work on homework and contemplating how this would end. 

He had a plan. The first part of it was lulling Mosley into letting down his guard. He had to keep Dean away from him, and find the way in, the way to kill Mosley without getting caught. Not to mention, keep his grades up, keep his scholarship…keep Dean alive.

He sighed and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He could do this. He could do this. He was so close. He just needed to survive.

 

Dean left Sam sleeping, showered and pulled on clothes before slipping out of the dorm and down to the street. This was not something he needed Sam to worry about.

It was almost eleven thirty. 

He exhaled and pulled himself together. He could do this. For Sam. It was $1500, three hundred from each of them. He could do this. 

The jock had found him at the off campus bar where he’d been hustling pool and turning tricks, offered him a party. Hadn’t even balked when Dean said $300 each. Only asked if he could handle five. Damn trust fund babies.

Five.

Dean hadn’t blinked or reacted, just nodded. Fifteen hundred for an hour or so of fucking. He could do this.

He knocked and the door opened, the same jock from before stepping away. He looked nervous, a little green around the edges. Four other guys shuffled around the room as Dean stopped. He shrugged off his jacket and nodded toward the beer on the desk. “Mind if I have one?”

The big guy by the door shook his head. “No, help yourself.”

Dean nodded and popped the top on one, taking a long drink before he looked up. “I collect first.” Not that it mattered too much. If this many guys wanted to take their money back, they probably could.

“Right.” That was the redhead, he was the only one who looked ready to party, his shirt off and the red in his face showing he’d had more than beer. He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Dean. He set the beer down long enough to rifle through and eyeball the amount, then shoved it in his own pocket.

It was pretty obvious that other than Red, none of them had done this before…and whether that meant with a guy or with a hooker, Dean couldn’t be sure. He exhaled and pulled off his shirt, kicked off his boots and went for his zipper. “Where?”

All of them looked around them, wide eyed. Okay, so maybe this was going to be more work than he thought. Dean unzipped his jeans, making eye contact with each of them before he dropped them, stepping clear. He was naked now. He stopped to pull out a roll of condoms and a tube of lube, dropping them on the desk by the beer.

He turned to the guy by the door, the one that recruited him and moved in. “Like what you see, big Guy?” 

“Oh…yeah…I do…” He was blushing as Dean’s hand slid over his chest, and down between his legs.

“Gonna have to loose some of these clothes if you wanna get busy.” Dean lifted up, cupping his cock and balls and feeling him tighten. “That’s a boy…let me see what you got under there.”

It took a few minutes, but then Dean was on his knees, the big guy’s cock sliding over his lips while Red moved in behind him. His hands slid over Dean’s skin, down to his ass. Lubed fingers pushed inside him and it became clear that Red knew what he was doing. Dean pushed back against him, urging Big Guy to slide down onto his ass so Dean could lift his, making room for Red’s cock.

He could feel the others, wide-eyed, watching. He slid a hand in to play with the balls under his chin and felt the big guy shudder.

“Oh…my…god…I’m…fuck!” And just like that the guy was coming. Dean backed off just in time, watching the come spray up and splat on the guy’s chest. Dean fucked himself back onto Red, sitting on him and beckoning the next. The faster he got this over with the better.

The blond was already fondling himself and he grabbed the back of Dean’s head, pulling him forward. “Suck it, you fucking whore.”

He pushed back the anger and did exactly that, sucking the cock as hard as he could before releasing it and sliding it in and out while he bounced on Red, whose fingers were digging into his hips. He squeezed his ass…and Red thrust up, groaning as he came. Blondie wasn’t far behind him, and that left the small one and the pretty boy.

Dean turned to them, panting lightly. “Who’s next?” He climbed to his feet, his cock semi-hard and bobbing. “Pretty boy?” He grinned, playing with himself as he moved closer and closer. The kid backed up until his feet hit the bed and he sat. “I can work with that.” Dean unzipped him, and his cock sprang free of his pants, hard and beautiful. Dean rolled a condom down him, then stood on the bed, holding the cock with one hand and guiding it inside him.

The kid gasped and the others gaped as Dean sank down onto him, then rose back up…and this kid didn’t even last three full strokes before he was filling the condom and grunting. 

Dean slipped off him, but didn’t get up, just beckoned the last one closer. “Haven’t got all night sweetheart, hop on in here.” The pretty boy was still laying under him, gasping and staring as the last one pushed into his ass. It was starting to ache a little, but he just gritted his teeth while the kid did his best at something that was sort of like fucking.

When he grunted and backed away, holding his still half hard cock Dean got to his feet. “Well, wasn’t this fun?”

He pulled his clothes on and finished off the beer. He held up a card, plain white with just his name and a number. “I’m looking to raise a lot of money, really fast. Know anyone who wants a good time? Call me.” 

He got to the door, then turned to look at them. “Prices go up for kinky shit. No blood, no bareback. Everything else is negotiable.”

 

Sam approached Professor Elton’s class with his heart racing. He hadn’t heard anything from the professor or from the dean since his meeting. There hadn’t been any rumors around campus about Elton getting booted, and if the dean had spoken to him about Sam, there would be trouble.

He slid into his seat, nodding greetings to the other students he knew, his eyes scanning the front of the room. He was relieved when Elton’s office door opened and a TA emerged, rather than the professor.

“Listen up!” The TA crossed to the podium. “Professor Elton is not feeling well, and asked me to take over today’s class.”

Of course, it could just be that the man was sick, but Sam was so relieved he couldn’t concentrate. 

He jogged down the stairs when class was over, anxiously checking his cell phone. The board was meeting later that night. Maybe they’d already decided. Maybe Elton was getting fired even now.

He crossed campus and flew up to his dorm room, frowning when Dean wasn’t there. The car was outside…and Dean hadn’t been going much of anywhere the last few days.

He scowled and turned back to the door, his eyes sweeping the desk for a note or some indication of where his brother had gone. He emerged back into the hall, still frowning. 

“You looking for the guy who’s been staying with you?”

Sam looked up, nodding even before the identity of the other person registered. Jesse Marpin, two doors down. Pre med. “Yeah, you see him?”

“Yeah, he left about an hour ago with these two big guys. Said to tell you he’d take care of everything.”

Fuck. Sam shook his head to clear it. Fuck. Mosley would kill him. 

Sam went back to the room and pulled the gun out from under his pillow and the knife from behind the nightstand, brass knuckles from the underwear drawer. He took off at a run, across campus and headed for the hotel.

 

Dean’s mouth was bleeding and he was on his knees, but for the moment, no one was hitting him. Mosley was counting the money. Dean swallowed blood as Mosley finished and looked at him.

“You gonna tell me how you got this?”

“Does it matter?” Dean asked. “I did what I do. It’s enough for you to leave Sam the fuck alone.”

Mosley sat back, rubbing his chin. “I like Sammy…he makes a good whore.”

It was close to $15000. a couple lucky bets and really big gambles after a few “parties” with Red and his friends. He knew there was no way he was getting close to Mosley without the money. “His debt is clear, and so is mine. You leave us the fuck alone.”

“Must have sucked a lot of cock for this. Maybe you should suck mine too…you know, seal the deal.” Mosley rubbed over his crotch with a grin.

There were a lot of things Dean wanted to do with that man’s cock, but sucking it sure wasn’t one of them.

“Pity, I think Sammy was really starting to enjoy working for me. You should have seen the way he sucked cock here last night. Did me and my boys, couple hotel guys too. Ask around, they really liked him in the bar.”

Dean breathed in, forced himself not to lose control. Mosley picked up a stack of the money again and shuffled through it, holding it up to his nose and sniffing. “Love the smell.”

Dean didn’t grin even though he wanted to. He’d been counting on that. On Mosley putting the money close to his face. He inched backwards. It worked fast, he needed to be ready to move.

“Boss?” Mosley’s eyes were bulging. Dean lurched to his feet. Mosley’s bodyguard was leaning over him. He was going to get a lungful too. All the better. Dean made for the door, pulling up short as a gun pushed into his chest.

Sam came into view on the other end of that gun, panting. “Dean?”

“It’s okay Sam. I took care of it. We need to go.”

Sam shook his head. “Is he…” He looked past Dean to where Mosley and his guard where struggling to breathe.

“Not yet, but soon.”

Sam shook his head. “What…what did you do?”

“Poison, okay? Let’s go.” Dean grabbed his hand, taking the gun away and putting it in his pocket. “Nice and easy.”

Sam seemed stunned as they got into the elevator. “It’s too easy. It’s…it’s not enough.”

Dean shook his head and held Sam’s arm. “It’s over Sammy. That’s all that matters.”

He got them out of the hotel and walking. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but away from the hotel, away from the dorm…just away. He’d already called in a few favors to sanitize the place once they were away. Bobby and a friend were probably already there, making sure there wasn’t any sign of any Winchester anywhere to be found.

“Dean…” Sam stopped them beside the slow moving creek. “What just happened?”

Dean stepped in close, running a hand over Sam’s face. “I took care of you. Like I should have before now. Mosley’s gone. It’s just you and me.”

“You and me?” Sam repeated slowly, He still looked shocked. “I thought…I thought he was going to kill you.”

Dean nodded. “Me too. I got him first.”

“How?”

“A little trick I picked up from this witch in Alabama. A little poison, a little spell. By the time he hits the coroner’s office it’ll look like a heart attack.”

Sam was shaking. “Hey, Sammy, come on. It’s okay.”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I was going to kill him. I wanted to kill him. For you.”

Dean reached for his face, kissing him deeply. They staggered back until Sam was against a tree. “It’s all over Sammy. All over.”

Sam’s hands dragged at him, at his clothes, desperate and hungry and Dean let him unzip him, but Sam froze when his hand swept over Dean’s ass and Dean winced.

“What?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing Sammy. Go on.”

“No.” Sam shoved until he got Dean turned around. “Fuck, Dean.”

“Don’t.” Dean pulled away, pulling his pants back up. 

“What did you do? Fuck the whole goddamn football team?”

“Don’t you even—“ Dean scratched at his head and turned to look at Sam. “I did it for you.”

“For me?” Sam stalked toward him. “How is this for me?”

“I needed the money Sam…and the people in this town? They pay. Not like those street punks. Serious money.”

“I told you I was handling Mosley.”

Dean grabbed his shirt and pulled it up, exposing the bruises on his sides from his last trip to see Mosley. “Right, because this is handling Mosley.” He shook his head. “Can’t you see what he was doing to you?” He dropped the shirt and reached for Sam, pulling him to him. “I was going to lose you Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “This is so fucked up.” He dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled. 

Dean had to agree. It was fucked up. And now that Mosley was gone, it could get put right. “It’s okay Sammy. You’ll see. We’re going to be okay.”

 

“Mr. Winchester.”

Sam stood and inclined his head toward the board. “We have reviewed your situation.” The woman speaking was a professor he didn’t know. “Academically, your record is flawless, and this incident aside, your behavior has been impeccable.”

His heart was racing. If only she knew. If only this board knew that he had gone to kill someone the day before, or that he was hiding his brother, who had killed someone the day before…or that just that morning he’d fucked his brother.

He held his breath and waited. 

“We all have pasts, Mr. Winchester. We are willing to believe that you are ready to put yours behind you. As long as you keep your nose clean and your grades up, you are welcome to remain here. Your scholarship will be re-evaluated at the end of every term.”

“Thank you.” Sam flushed with relief. “This means everything to me.”

“And, Mr. Winchester?”

He turned to face his dean on the end. “The dorms are for students only. If you’re going to continue having your guest, you might consider other housing.”

Sam nodded. “Of course.”

Dean was at his side instantly as he left the building. “Well?”

“I can stay. For now.” Sam fell into step beside him. “But we have to find someplace else to live…if you’re staying.”

Dean was quiet for a moment and Sam stopped, closing his eyes. Of course Dean wouldn’t stay. Dean was only here for him. Dean was probably already packed. 

“Sam?”

“Do you hate me?” Sam asked, his voice small.

“What?” Dean grabbed his hand. “What?”

“Don’t hate me Dean. Don’t hate me. Leave if you want, go back for Dad…or go hunting…but don’t hate me.” He felt hot tears and shook his head. He didn’t want to fall apart now.

“Sam, why would I hate you?”

Sam reached for him blindly, pulling him in to kiss him, not caring that it was broad daylight or that they were in the middle of campus, just needing to feel him. Dean’s lips opened, his tongue warm against Sam’s, melting. 

“Just don’t…I couldn’t take it if you did.” Sam whispered.

“Not going anywhere, Sammy. It’s you and me, remember?” Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s. “So…we’ll find an apartment somewhere. I’ll get a job. You’ll go to school. It’ll be great. You wait and see.”

Sam wanted to believe him. He really did, and when Dean winked at him and started walking again, he almost did. Almost.


End file.
